Home Is Where the Heart Is
by 4sweetdreams
Summary: Special Agent Jenny Shepard has not been home in more than a decade. A conference brings her face to face with the reason why. Is home where you live or where your heart belongs? She’s about to find out. A slightly AU JIBBS story
1. Chapter 1

**Home Is Where The Heart Is**

**____________________________________________________________________________ **

Special Agent Jenny Shepard has not been home in more than a decade. A conference brings her face to face with the reason why. Is home where you live or where your heart belongs? She's about to find out. A slightly AU JIBBS story.

**Disclaimer**: The standard: Don't own it, but I sure wish that I did. NCIS and all of its recognized pieces and parts belong to DBP/CBS/Paramount. No copyright infringement intended.

**Rating**: T (If rating changes, I will give the alert)

**Authors Note**: To cut down on possible confusion: Paris did happen, Jenny never became the Director of NCIS, she isn't sick, Vance became Director after Morrow moved to Homeland Security, and Ziva was placed on Gibbs team by Vance.

Reviews are much appreciated! Thanks!

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**Prologue**

**Paris 1999**

The announcement came over the intercom first in French, then in English. He would never admit it, but NCIS Special Agent Jethro Gibbs was thankful. After almost three years in Europe, he had managed only a rudimentary grasp of the French language.

"Excuse me, Sir. We have encountered a bit of difficulty with the plane. The pilot is allowing the passengers to deplane and wait in the lobby during the delay."

Gibbs glanced up at the flight attendant and gave her a brisk nod. He turned and gently nudged the woman at his side who had managed during the twenty minute wait to fall asleep.

"Jen. Jenny?" She opened her eyes and rubbed her brow gently—lifting her green gaze to meet his blue one. "Delay. Want to sleep or get coffee?"

"Delay?" She turned in her seat.

"We're stuck, Jen. Get off or stay on?"

"Off" She smiled and started to pull her carry on items with her.

"You can leave everything right here. I promise it will not be harmed" The flight attendant now spoke directly to Jenny. As Gibbs, turned to move down the aisle, the two women locked gazes. Intentionally. Both relaying a message.

"You are certain no harm will come to it?"

"You have been given our guarantee" came the pointed response— the icy undertone demanded action if that promise was to be kept.

NCIS Special Agent Jenny Shepard shouldered her purse, but left her cream colored coat on the seat of the plane. She turned to follow her partner into the airport. She did not look back.

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**London 2009**

Jenny stared through the window at the brilliant point of light above her in the night sky. As a young girl, she had believed that wishing upon a star could make a dream come true. She had not been a girl for a long time. And she knew that wishing always didn't make something happen. But tonight, she felt a flicker of hope rise inside her as she gazed upon the bright light. _Almost a wish._

"Jenny?"

She turned from star gazing. "Hey, Andrea. Are we ready to go?"

Special Agent Andrea Rainey smiled. They had been working together for the past six years. Her boss was rarely nervous—but Andrea would have had to be blind not to notice what Jenny's body language was clearly broadcasting.

"Mitchell says that you leave in about twenty minutes in order to catch the flight to D.C. You don't have to do this, you know. Marcus doesn't have a problem covering if---"

"--- I want to chicken out?" She gently added. Andrea was a good agent, and a good friend. "I haven't been home in twelve years. I think I can handle it."

"I guess that would depend on what 'it' you're referring to, huh?" She shot her a small smile.

"Is there a question in there, Agent Rainey?" She lifted an eyebrow, humor in her tone.

"No, Ma'am. Sec Nav was pretty clear that you should be the one to attend. I've teamed up with Henry. But I know that there is more in D.C. than just an old house full of memories." She started to add more, but then seemed to think better of it. "I'll come and get you when the car is ready" With that, she exited the small office and left Jenny to her thoughts.

_More than a house full of memories. Yeah. She would get that right. _Jenny had been with NCIS for almost 14 years. The past ten had been spent in various field offices in Europe. Washington D.C. was home, but she had not been there since leaving to take an undercover assignment in Marseilles years earlier. The opportunity to lead her own team had presented itself at a time when she least expected it—just as she was completing the job she had been initially assigned to do in Europe. Given her options, she taken the opening and held onto it with both hands. But she had left her heart in Paris. It had been one of the hardest decisions that she had ever made. She had rationalized that decision over time—each passing year making it a little easier for her to accept and to suppress her real reason for not returning to America. But now, faced with attending an International Cooperation Conference under the direct order from the Secretary of the Navy, she had little choice in the matter. She was going home. At least for a little while. Home to face her demons. Home to face the man she had loved and left behind.

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**Washington, D.C.**

The airport at Dulles was a bit more crowded than she had remembered. At least the taxi cabs were still in abundance, and she had no trouble finding one to take her into Georgetown. She paid the driver after retrieving her luggage and paused for a moment to look up at the stately townhouse that had been her childhood home. She had thought about selling it—her residence was in London. But this place had always felt like "home". A portion of the inheritance money she had received after her father's death was allocated to keep it up. Sometimes things were hard to let go of--- the townhouse had proven to be one of them. The light in the window was a welcome sight. Noemi had not forgotten. Pulling her key from her pocket, it slid without difficulty into the antique lock. The stately wooden door opened with ease and Jenny let herself into the foyer. Old smells and memories came flooding back. Some were good; others not so good. She focused on the good. After locking the door behind her, she left her bags at the foot of the staircase. She entered the study --thankful that her housekeeper had left the desk lamp on. She inhaled deeply. The scent of cigar smoke was faint, but it still lingered with the smell of lemon oil, ash from the fireplace, and leather. It brought with it pleasant memories of her father. She moved to the drink cabinet and smiled at the red bow and ribbon around on the large bottle of bourbon that had been left for her. A welcome home present. She opened the card and read, "_Welcome home! You'll be fine. Love, Andrea_" She opened the bottle, and poured some of the light brown liquid into a glass. She relaxed her body into the leather chair behind what was once her father's desk. Her desk now. She welcomed the burn of the alcohol as it passed down her throat. The taste of the bourbon alone brought with it a whole other set of memories that she was not ready to face. Finishing her drink, she turned off the light and headed up the stairs and into her bedroom. She was exhausted. After a quick shower, she slipped into her pajamas and welcomed the feel of the mattress beneath her. It was nice to be in a familiar place surrounded by smells and memories of happier times. As sleep started to overtake her, she felt her mind try to wander. She firmly reined it in. Not tonight. She was too tired. She was sure that tomorrow would bring enough troubles. No sense in adding to those now.

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_She loved the feel of his slightly calloused fingers as they brushed over her naked shoulders and lifted her long red curls away from her neck. His lips traced a line from the curve of her jaw to the hollow of her throat. She moaned softly as she felt the heat spread from her core and race through her veins. It was always like this when she was in his arms. No one had ever made her feel quite the way he could. She pressed her breasts to his chest, relishing the feel of his chest hair as it brushed against her. She could feel his arousal—hard against her thigh. She was so ready that more foreplay was a mute point. As he slid the tip of his tongue to her parted lips, she allowed him entry. She returned his kiss with equal force, silently telling him that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. 'Jethro,' she begged as he lowered himself between her thighs. She cried out in pleasure as he entered and began to thrust inside her. _

Jenny's eyes flew open and she sat straight up in bed. Her breath came in deep gasps and her heart pounded in response to the vision that had just seconds ago seemed so very real. She could feel herself trembling and flushed with need. Looking over at her alarm clock, 0530 glowed in the darkness of her bedroom. She ran a hand through her hair and placed her feet on the floor. She mentally shook herself and tried to think of anything other than the dream. She might as well get showered. She knew that sleep would not return.

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Why this meeting was taking place at Quantico still escaped her. Chalking it up to the spirit of "international cooperation", she let it go. The venue was already starting to fill with representatives from other agencies. Another field agent from Europe was at her side. Mitchell Norris was good man to have around if you needed backup. She couldn't help the feeling that she might be able to use it today. She picked up her packet and signed in.

"Well, I'll be damned!"

Jenny turned and couldn't help but smile. "Tobias, you were damned a long time ago. Don't try and blame it on me!" She moved forward and lightly embraced the FBI agent. She glanced around and he smirked at the flash he caught in her eyes.

"He never has learned how to play nicely with others. There's no way in hell that he'd let Vance railroad him into coming here. Besides, his team caught a case." Jenny met his eyes and gave him a small grin. There was no need to mention names. He knew she had been looking for Jethro.

"Can't say that I wasn't a little worried" She shrugged her shoulders slightly and felt the slight flush of heat as it graced her cheeks.

"From what I hear, you've no reason to be. That was a long time ago" He looked up as someone from across the room called his name. "Hey, meet me for a drink later?"

"Are you sure Diane won't mind?" At his grimace, she lifted a brow, "Okay, 1800. The same old place?"

He placed a quick kiss on her cheek, "Good to see you, Jenny. I'll see you then. We can swap war stories" He nodded at the agent at Jenny's side and turned.

She watched him disappear into the crowd. _So Jethro wouldn't be here after all._ She felt herself relax for the first time that morning.

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The case was going nowhere fast. The initial leads concerning the death of the wife of a dead naval officer were speculative at best, but things had gone from bad to worse. And it was definitely not helping his mood. Special Agent Gibbs glowered at his team and demanded some answers.

"Murray's alibi checks out, Boss. Three guys in his squad confirm he was at the poker game from 1800 to 2300. He even rode home with one of 'em. There is no way that he is our guy." Tony DiNozzo shrugged. "We can keep lookin' though" He tried to ignore the twin glares from both of his teammates—Ziva and Tim were both ready for a break.

Gibbs ran his hand over his face and glanced at the clock. It was getting late. They might as well start fresh in the morning. "Go home. Get some sleep. We'll start at 0800"

His agents looked at him for a beat, and then decided not to tempt fate. They quickly grabbed their personal gear and headed to the elevator.

_This case was a nightmare_! Gibbs sat down at his desk and allowed a sigh to escape him. The poor woman had been brutally raped and strangled—leaving her grieving husband to care for their three year old son. It was more than just the family tragedy —something about the woman had struck a chord. Her frame was petite, her skin a pale contrast to her auburn hair. _Memories of another woman clouded his vision_. Sometimes he hated this damn job. He leaned his back into his chair. He needed a drink. He usually retreated to his basement and his boat to help him work though a case. But tonight, he did not want to be alone while he drank—and he didn't necessarily want to sleep alone either. He knew of one place that he could go and mull over the thoughts running through his mind. Telling himself that he could use the distraction, he grabbed his badge and his weapon and headed for the elevator.

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She assumed that it was the combination of the bourbon and the company that had her laughing. Not that he let many know it, but Tobias Fornell actually possessed a sense of humor. Jenny couldn't help but pity the poor man as he told her of just how his marriage to Diane – who had been Jethro Gibbs' second ex-wife—had ended, but she was glad that he had escaped the ordeal with two things intact: his sanity and the fact that he had a daughter, Emily, which he adored.

"So what about you, Jenny? Please tell me that you've got some tale of woe that will make me look better than the sorry bastard everyone takes me to be"

She focused her eyes on the light brown liquid in her glass before looking up at him. She had already shared some of her stories about her team and the cases that had kept them busy in Europe. Mitchell had even thrown in a few of the more colorful aspects of the cases. At this point, she knew he was fishing for something a bit more personal.

"Nothing to tell, Tobias. Married to the job—not much time for anything else"

"No one special in Europe?"

"Maybe" Which was her favorite enigmatic answer whenever she was asked that question. _There was someone special—but very few people knew to whom she referred. _

"I hope he knows just what a lucky man he is"

"I think he's told me a time or two that he's glad that I'm around"

"C'mon, Jenny," Mitch teased, "we all tell you that we're glad that you're around" He bumped a shoulder playfully into hers and she let him. Not really caring what Tobias wanted to read into their interaction.

Fornell shifted and watched the door as it opened to allow a few new patrons to enter the bar. His mouth quirked and he downed his drink. _Things were about to get interesting. _

Gibbs eyes found someone familiar in the bar and he headed towards him. Hell, if there was a red-head within a 10 mile radius, leave it to Tobias to find her. Of course, if the nearness of the blonde man at her side was any indication, Fornell had run up against a little competition. He wondered briefly if the front side of this woman was a nice as the view he had of her backside.

"Agent Fornell"

She froze when she heard his voice—a sound she would know anywhere. She had heard it often enough in her dreams over the past decade. Now it was very real---and right behind her.

"Gibbs. Didn't expect to see you here tonight. Heard you caught a tough one"

"Something like that" He signaled to the bartender and caught his attention. The man knew Gibbs well and set about pouring his usual bourbon.

Jenny lifted her glass and quickly downed the rest of her drink. She squared her shoulders, turned on the bar stool, and lifted her green eyes to meet the shocked blue ones of the man who now stood in front of her.

"Hello, Jethro"

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To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter 2

**Home Is Where the Heart Is **

Disclaimer: Still don't … still wish I did. If you sue me, all you'll get is my cat.

A/N: Reviews are appreciated! Thanks!

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**Chapter 2**

Gibbs had taken his fair share of blows to his gut, but the fact that this non-physical confrontation had quite literally taken his breath away in the same fashion that a sucker punch to the stomach would, left him momentarily unsettled.

"Jen?" He quickly disciplined his face and eyes to remain blank. His mind was spinning with erotic images of their last time together, but there was no way in hell that he'd let the woman in front of him know that.

"Should we skip the 'you haven't changed a bit' bull?" She offered a careful smile. He had aged well. His hair was a bit grayer, but little else had changed. At least on the outside. She could only imagine the thoughts that were hidden behind his impassive expression.

All of the clever retorts that came to mind were silenced as he stood there –losing himself again in the mesmerizing green of her eyes. A discrete cough brought him back to the present. He saw the man at her side drop a hand to her lower back. He repressed the flare of jealousy and narrowed his eyes.

"Why start lying to each other now, Jen?" If her reaction was any indication, this came out colder than he had originally intended. He told himself that he didn't care. _She had disappeared in Paris without a word—and he still had his pride._

While she had not been expecting an 'open arms' welcome, anything would have been preferred to the taciturn look that she saw in his eyes –and heard so clearly in his voice. She faltered just a bit and was glad that Mitchell was there. Jennifer Shepard was not usually one to run from confrontation, but open hostility was something entirely different.

Mitch watched the reunion with careful eyes. He knew a little of the history—but Jenny had always been rather tight lipped about her past. What he did know is that the woman at his side did not deserve the glare that she was getting from her former partner. If there was ever a moment for an intervention, this was it.

"Hey, Jenny. You promised to dance with me, remember?" He pulled her to her feet, ignoring the fleeting look of confusion in her eyes. He led her onto the dance floor and they began to move to the mellow music coming from the ancient jukebox. Her arms snaked around his neck. She knew without him saying a word that he was trying to help her overcome the awkwardness she had felt at seeing Jethro after all of these years. She found the gesture sweet and oddly comforting.

She felt both Gibbs and Fornell's eyes on them and started to move away from him, but he locked eyes with her, bringing his right hand to rest on her waist. "Just pretend they aren't there" Jenny tried to relax and play along—slipping a soft smile on her face as her fingers played with the longer hair at the back of Mitch's neck, the blonde strands sliding through her fingers with what she hoped looked like practiced ease.

It took Gibbs all of ten seconds to realize that he did not like the way the man was moving with Jenny. And another ten for the voice in his head to remind him that he had no say in what she did or who she did it with. In the end, both voices were doused with a mouthful of bourbon and he was moving towards the dance floor.

"May I?" He asked Mitchell, the challenge clear in his eyes, if not his voice.

"If the lady doesn't mind" Mitch hedged, giving Jenny an out if she chose to take it. She gave him a fleeting smile and a nod of her head. Mitchell relinquished his hold, only after giving Gibbs a hard look of warning. Jethro smirked, and turned to the woman whom he had not held for what his body reminded him was too long.

Against all of his better judgment, he pulled her close, holding her waist with both hands, as he started to dance with her. The low sound of music drifted through the bar, controlling the movements of his body. Shifting her position a bit, she didn't resist the urge to rest her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes when she heard the sound of his heart beating.

After all this time, his nearness still left her weak in the knees, a feeling no one else had ever been able to evoke. He smelled like she remembered: wood, bourbon, and something more that was totally Gibbs. Her mind drifted back to the times when she lay curled in his arms for hours—feeling safe, loved. She must have sighed lightly at the memory because she felt his arms tighten around her just a fraction and she smiled to herself. Maybe she wasn't the only one who was haunted by fond recollections.

The first song segued into another, but Jenny pulled back, smiling gently up at him, dropping her arms away from his shoulders. "Thank you for the dance, Jethro" she said as she tucked her hair behind her ears. Leaning up, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and then turned to make a hasty retreat. The kiss shocked him, but he shocked himself even more when he reached out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back to him.

He didn't know what he was thinking; in fact he could have sworn that he wasn't thinking at all from the way he was acting. Desperate for a moment of privacy, Gibbs glanced around before taking her arm and leading her through a darked archway into an unoccupied part of the bar. She went with him, not really having a choice since he was intent on hauling her along behind him. Safely away from prying eyes, his body pushed hers up against the nearest wall, intent on becoming much closer to her than what the dance floor had allowed.

"Jethro, I really don't think this is a good--"She was cut off when he kissed her---shocking her into complete silence.

Jenny melted on the spot, a blush rising to her cheeks as she lifted her hands-- letting her fingers thread into his hair. They stood there for what seemed like forever, caught up in a kiss that seemed to say everything that neither of them could put into words. He was the first to break it, heart beating wildly in his chest as he let go of her and took a step back. She was still blushing when they parted, her heart beating entirely too fast from just a simple kiss. "I…I have to go…" She didn't give him time to object if he'd wanted to. He waited a moment, giving his body a chance to adjust to the loss of her contact before following her back into the lighted room.

"Everything okay?" Mitchell and Fornell had been lost in conversation and had not noticed the quick exit or the entry back into the bar. Both did note, however, the color on the redheads' cheeks and exchanged bemused glances when they noticed Gibbs following ten paces behind her.

"Fine" She reached for the glass of bourbon on the bar counter, not really remembering—or caring—if it belonged to Jethro or to her. She willed her hand not to shake and tried to calm the rapid beat of her heart as she drank it. _What in the hell had she been thinking? Why had she let him kiss her with such abandon? Why had her body betrayed her by kissing him back? _

"Running away again, Jen?" His tone was not harsh, but the words left no room for her to misinterpret the meaning behind them.

_  
_"We have to report at 0700, right?" She turned to her fellow agent, her features schooling themselves to appear unaffected by his comment.

"We do have an early start in the morning" Mitchell leaned in, enjoying playing the doting escort, "Ready to go, Jenny?" His hazel eyes danced with humor. He was never going to let her forget this—and she knew it.

"Jethro, Tobias. Good evening to you both" She managed to make a dignified exit with Mitchell's hand casually draped over her hip.

All Gibbs could do was watch and curse himself for being so stupid. He picked up his glass, only to notice that it was empty. He banged the glass on the bar a little more forcefully than was necessary to get the bartenders attention.

"Buy you another drink?" Fornell offered. "Looks like you could use one"

"Did I say anything, Tobias?" he growled.

The FBI agent glanced at him, and just shook his head. "No, but you didn't have to".

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As fate would have it, he did go home alone---but he knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep any time soon. In the basement, practiced hands slid over his boat. His mind was on the reunion in the bar. Jenny was back in D.C. It had been what? Ten years since he had seen her. Memories of that day pushed to the front of his mind.

_Paris 1999_

_The small café in the airport was not crowded. Jethro picked up their drinks and moved to the table where Jenny waited. He had to admit that she was looking a little worse than this morning. He handed her a cup. "Mint tea, Jen. One sugar, light cream. Are you sure you feel alright?"_

_She took the proffered cup from his hands and closed her eyes, inhaling the aroma. In reality, it gave her an excuse not to look at him. "Fine, Jethro. Just a little cold is all. I wish I had my coat."_

"_I'll go back and get it if you want"_

_She looked up at him this time, her expression full of so many conflicting emotions that Jethro couldn't quite read what she was thinking. "Do you know how much I love you?" she asked._

_He tilted his head and winked at her, "I might need you to remind me". He stood and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. He could feel her slightly shiver at his touch and he attributed that to the chill in the airport. "I'll be right back. Hold that thought"_

_The flight attendant had given him a guarded look when he entered the plane. He walked to their seats and picked up Jen's coat. He noted that same attendant was on the telephone when he left a minute later, rapidly conversing in French. _

_Their table at the café was empty when he returned. He sat, holding her coat and sipping his coffee. She probably had gone back to the bathroom, he mused. Five minutes passed before he started to become concerned. He got up and went to stand outside of the ladies toilet area. Another five minutes passed before he started wondering what the penalty was for 'accidentally' wandering into a ladies restroom. The uneasy feeling in his gut was not helping. He strode across the broad hall and sat on some chairs facing the entrance to the restroom. He would see her when she came out, and she would easily be able to see him. He pulled her coat into his arms, smelling the ginger and citrus scent of her favorite shampoo. An envelope protruded from the pocket and he innocently pulled it out, thinking she might want to put it into her purse for safe keeping. His name on the outside of the envelope startled him. He glanced at his watch. She had been gone for fifteen minutes. That was very unlike Jenny. With a feeling of increasing dread, he opened the envelope in his hand. Pulling the single piece of stationery from it, he began to read._

"_Dear Jethro"…_

The letter had said she was "doing what was best for her". That evidently did not include having him in her life. As he sanded the boat, he remembered how he went back to that letter time and again—always looking for some clue as to what he had done or not done. In the end, he concluded that it hadn't been about him at all. Jen was ambitious, driven. It had always been about the next "op". He let himself believe that once he had outlived his usefulness, he had just been a mere roadblock she had found a convenient detour around. The pain had--over time--dulled into an ache.

The kiss wasn't the best move he could have made, but he and Jenny had always communicated best without words. Part of him wondered if that were still true. Very few people had been able to 'play' him over the years. His gut still told him that Jen had not been one of them.

Tonight, the way she had responded to the kiss and his touch made him question her motives and his deductions all over again. Jenny was a good agent. When the occasion called for it, she could put on a convincing act. She wasn't, however, a liar. A response like that would have been impossible for her to fake.

Fornell had told him that the convention was to run until the 20th of the month. That meant he had two weeks. Two weeks to find out what she had meant in her letter. And if she still felt the same way she had ten years ago.

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To Be Continued…


	3. Chapter 3

**Home Is Where the Heart Is**

**Disclaimer**: Standard. Still don't. Still wish I did. No copyright infringements intended.

**Authors Note**: Thank you for the reviews—ya'll are very kind! B, you're an angel! Thanks for the tips! ___________________________________________________________________________________

**Chapter 3**

The last puff of smoke from his cigarette curled upward before he snuffed it out against the palm of his hand. After years of abuse, his body no longer registered the pain from the momentary sting or the acrid smell of burning flesh. It excited him—pain was necessary for him to feel anything. He slid the stub of the cigarette butt into the pocket of his jeans. _Don't leave a clue. Clean. It must be clean_. His personal mantra. He watched the front door of the townhouse with sharp eyes. He would make sure that she felt the pain, too. _It was his own special gift that he shared with a select few. Those who were unique. His girls._

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The harder she tried not to think about what she had done, the more her mind focused on the fact that she had not only allowed herself to be alone in physical proximity with Jethro, she had enjoyed it. She still craved his touch as much—if not more—than she had ten years earlier. Was it more than physical attraction? She and Jethro were both tactile and passionate individuals. But it hadn't been just about sex years ago—although if she remembered correctly (and she was sure that she did), the sex had been phenomenal. Gibbs had touched more than just her body: he challenged her opinions and ideas. He made her think outside of the box. They understood that an element of darkness lay hidden inside the other—they hadn't spoken of it—merely accepted that it was there, and that it was an integral part of what made them who they were.

The feelings he evoked that evening revealed the type of need that had the ability to keep a person awake –struggling with questions and longing. She hadn't slept more than two hours at a time since he had cornered her in the bar three nights ago---and her growing frustration was starting to show.

For the past two days, she'd been on autopilot: smiling and shaking hands with the right people, listening to the latest intelligence reports and threat assessments that came from all over the globe, and eating when Mitchell reminded her to.

"Jenny?" A voice called into her right ear.

"Huh?" She turned her distracted gaze and blinked into Mitchell's hazel eyes. She glanced around, suddenly aware that everyone in the lecture hall was rapidly emptying. The update on the newest IED's must be over.

"Ready to go? I can give you a ride back to your place or you can still come to dinner with me at Michelle's" Mitchell's twin sister worked for the Department of Defense—she was thrilled that he was in town, and had invited family and friends for a meal to celebrate.

"Thanks, Mitch, but no." She glanced at her watch. "I do need to check in with our office and Director Vance has promised me some time in MTAC. Drop me off at the Navy Yard?"

"Not a problem"

_Oh, _she thought as she gathered her things_, it might be. There was always a chance that Jethro and his team could be in the bullpen. Seeing him again would definitely be a problem._

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Petty Officer Bonnie Hudson had been a beautiful girl in life. She still was beautiful in death. The vivid bruising around her throat left little to the imagination regarding how she had died, but he still deferred to his ME for the official cause of death.

"What 'cha got, Duck?" He bent down next to the body. Tim was taking pictures, while Tony was sketching the scene. Ziva was trying to glean what information she could from a distraught neighbor.

Donald "Ducky" Mallard looked up from the unseeing eyes of the woman in front of him, "If I were to hazard an educated guess, Jethro, it would be that we are now looking at victim # 3. It's obvious that the poor girl was strangled. As to the extent of her other injuries, I'll have to get her home to determine that. She fits the profile." He indicated the girl's size, and coloring—all similar to the two women who were in his morgue. "This actually reminds me of the op we had in the Czech—"

Gibbs cleared his throat loudly, and Ducky stopped his reminiscing for once. He remembered the cost that had come with that op. Maybe now was not the best time to bring it up in conversation. He caught Tony's questioning look and turned back to his friend.

"Jethro, the attacks are escalating. This is the third woman in seven days! Are you any closer to catching the bastard responsible?"

"Workin' on it, Duck." He forced his gaze from the Petty Officers body and stood to his feet. Ziva came to stand beside him, a frown creasing her brow.

"Anything new?"

"Not much, Gibbs. The Petty Officer was quiet, lived alone. Per the neighbor, she had not noticed anything unusual in the past few days."

"Boyfriend?"

"Not that she was aware of, but she did admit that she may not be certain of this"

"Fine. McGee! You're with me. The rest of you finish up here and ride back when Dr. Mallard brings the body"

Three dead women in seven days. The only common thread, other than the Navy, was how they looked in life—petite, fair, and with varying shades of red hair. Their best theory was that physical appearance was evidently what had lead to their deaths. Ducky was right. It did remind him of the case in Czechoslovakia so many years before. Women had been dying there, too. _One woman in particular had almost died trying to apprehend the man responsible._

"Ready, Boss" The young agent appeared at Gibbs elbow.

Gibbs just grunted and headed towards the sedan. His gut kept telling him that he was missing something. But what? He headed back to the Navy Yard to try and figure it out.

{{{{{{{

She loved the dark, cocoon-like feel of MTAC. Techs were softly calling out instructions and orders as Jenny conversed with Marcus, her senior field agent.

"An uptick in chatter could mean a shipment of weapons is headed for Afghanistan. Be sure and keep in touch with our contact on the ground. I'll check back with you in 48 hours. If something happens before then, you know what to do."

"Yes, Ma'am. Boss, Andrea needs a word."

"Put her on. Good work, Marcus" He flashed a grin and handed the headset to Andrea. She slid into his vacated seat and filled the screen.

"How's it going over there, Shepard?"

"Fine. You have an update for me?"

"Latest intel puts King back in Paris. He wasn't expected for at least another week. It may be nothing, but I thought I should let you know."

"Appreciate it. Things are going well with your other _assignment?_" She smiled as she added the emphasis on the last word. He would like knowing that he warranted a conversation in MTAC.

"No problems. He did want me to remind you of your promise in regards to Madagascar"

"Already done. I'm following up with Marcus in 48. I'll speak with you then" She ended the transmission.

"Something in Madagascar I should be aware of Special Agent Shepard?" Director Leon Vance's voice hovered over her shoulder.

She turned. "No, Sir. It's a simple matter of a piece of state side research that I needed to obtain for a friend."

Her cool stare never wavered as she met the Director's eyes. _God help me, but I can't stand that man!_ She hadn't liked him when he was a Special Agent in Europe ten years earlier. She wasn't sure what it was about him, but he had the ability to make her skin crawl. Over the years, she had come up with more than a few ideas of what she'd like to do with the ever present toothpick the man kept in his mouth. None of which would have been pleasant---at least not for Leon.

He nodded and turned, "Need to go over some of the latest intel. Be in my office in five"

It made her feel a little better when she saw one of the techs roll their eyes at the Director's retreating form when she went to hand him her headset. They shared a conspiratorial smile. _Maybe she wasn't the only one with creative ideas about the toothpick._

{{{{{{{{{{

"Well, I don't know, McGoogle. I tried that! Why don't you try and see if you can do any better" Tony looked up from his computer and glared at the other field agent.

"It wouldn't be such a problem, Tony, if you'd just pay attention. Ziva got it the first time that I showed her how to do it" Tim walked over to Tony's computer and began typing the correct sequence of keys to allow the crime scene photos to appear on the plasma.

Ziva sat and shook her head. Sometimes the men she worked with could be so juvenile. She looked up and saw Director Vance leaning over the rail on the catwalk. She could not stop the smile when a moment later, a very familiar red head joined him. She stood and began walking towards the stairs. Tony and Tim's eyes followed her, curious as to where she was headed. Tony gave a low whistle of appreciation as his eyes took in the curves of the woman now descending the stairs to meet the Israeli.

"Who's that with the Director?" He heard McGee ask.

"I don't know, Probie, but I plan on finding out, and _soon _---" He felt a familiar hand come into contact with the back of his head. "As soon… as I'm done reviewing all of the crime scene photos, Boss"

"Smartest thing I've heard you say all day, DiNozzo" Came Gibbs dry reply. His eyes, however, were on the two women lightly embracing on the landing. _Damn! He knew it was just a matter of time, but he wasn't expecting her to materialize in front of him._

"Shalom, Jen" Ziva kissed both of Jenny's cheeks, her arms lightly holding the arms of the woman who had been her partner for almost four years, and who was largely responsible for her being assigned as a liaison officer to NCIS. She had not seen Jenny Shepard in three years—it had been too long.

"Shalom, Ziva. You are looking well" She pulled back and assessed her. _Yes, it had been good to get Ziva away from the scrutiny and rigidity of Mossad. _She looked happy—something Jenny had not seen in a long time.

"I am" They continued walking down the stairs and towards Ziva's team members. Jenny's steps slowed considerably when she saw Jethro standing in the middle of the bullpen. She could feel her heartbeat increasing just from being in the same room with the man. _Calm down, Shepard! You're a grown woman—not a fifteen year old with a hormonal crush!_

Tony brought up his most charming smile as Ziva began introductions. She might have been older than the women he usually dated, but the woman in front of him was beautiful—he would be more than willing to make an exception. "Tony, McGee. This is Special Agent Jenny Shepard" Jen smiled at both of the men. "I believe you know Special Agent Gibbs"

Jenny looked into Gibbs face and brought out the best smile she could muster. "Jethro. We keep running into each other. Ziva and I worked anti-terrorist ops together before she transferred from Europe"

"Agent Shepard has spoken often of you, Gibbs" Ziva said, not trying hard enough to keep the smile and innuendo out of her voice.

"Is that so?" His blue eyes held her green ones and he—to her surprise--gave her a genuine grin before moving around to sit behind his desk.

"How do you know Gibbs?" Tony asked.

Jenny turned and sat down at Ziva's desk. "This," she began, "used to be where I sat. Granted, they finally got rid of those old desks, but its same spot"

"You used to be on Gibbs' team?" Tony sputtered. _The Boss had a thing for redheads, and he had red head that looked like that for a Probie? Wow!_ The wheels in his head were turning and he was enjoying the 'R' to 'X' visuals supplied by his overactive imagination.

"DiNozzo!"

"Yeah, Boss" Tony blinked, and smiled again at Jenny. _Wow!_

"Photos?" Gibbs growled. He rose and moved to the plasma, noting out of the corner of his eye that Jenny had mimicked his movement. She was a good agent. He decided that he wouldn't mind another pair of eyes looking at the crime scene. They all grouped around the plasma and Jenny was soon caught up in a review of the photos. Gibbs positioned himself where he was standing right beside her, close enough for him to realize that she wore the same perfume and that ginger and citrus still was the shampoo of choice. He felt his groin tighten, and he shifted—suddenly uncomfortable in his clothing. He did not, however, move away.

"Her identification was left on the body. No cash, but the credit cards were still there. I think Ducky sent a few things for Abby to run, but it's safe to say the motive wasn't robbery, Boss"

"It seems that he picks them because they look like---

"Me" They turned and looked at her as Jenny supplied the end to Tim's statement. It was true; all three of the women did—in an eerie way—look a lot like the agent standing in the bullpen with them.

"It reminds me of the op in the former Czech Republic"

Gibbs eyes narrowed and he shook his head, "No, Jen. Not gonna happen" _He had hoped that she wouldn't make the connection. He mentally slapped the back of his own head—he should have known that she would._

"Why not? It worked then. Maybe it'll work now."

The three younger agents exchanged confused glances.

"Gee, Jenny. I don't know where to start with the reasons. One, that was twelve years ago. Two, you're not on my team, and three—Hell, you're not going to be in that position again!"

Tony was surprised that the other agent didn't wilt under the Gibbs glare that accompanied his words. He was downright impressed when the woman placed a hand on her hip and shot back an answer with a look that was equally lethal.

"It was only an option to consider, Special Agent Gibbs! I'm not volunteering myself for anything"

"Good!" He grabbed his cup of coffee and stormed out –headed in the direction of Autopsy.

"Fine!" She shot at his retreating back.

"What exactly happened twelve years ago? What did you volunteer for?" Tony asked.

"A marine was raping and killing women in the region. It was our job to catch him"

"And what role did you play?" Ziva questioned.

"I was the bait".

_________

To Be Continued…


	4. Chapter 4

**Home Is Where the Heart Is**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own them. Things would be a lot different if I did. No infringement intended.

**A/N**: This story has kind of taken on a life of its own… I hope it still makes sense. (Oops! I think I just heard a certain someone groan!) This chapter is without much JIBB-erish, but the next one will have some--- I promise !______________________________________________________________________________________________

**Chapter 4**

It was late before he left the Navy Yard—it usually was. The case, however, was one that had them all working overtime. Whoever killed these women was a pro. He left no forensic evidence behind: no saliva, no semen, no prints, no DNA. Ducky and Jenny were both right –it was similar to the case they had worked in 1997, but at least then they had a definite suspect. This case had not pointed a finger at anyone in particular.

He told himself that he just wanted to check and make sure that she was safely home. He pulled the sedan to the curb and parked outside of her townhouse. The lights were still on in the foyer and in the upstairs window that he remembered was her bedroom. She was home. He couldn't help but wonder about the interaction he had seen with the agent in the bar. There was a good chance that she wasn't alone. It had been ten years—he had a failed marriage and some failed relationships in that amount of time. Jen had been a very physical and sensual woman. He was sure that she had other men—it didn't mean that he had to like it. Somewhere in his mind, Jen had always been his. Perhaps it was the illusion of woman that he had come to think of after the initial bitterness of their parting had faded. He knew that illusions were dangerous—illusions were beings that had no flaws. If he were to get beyond that, he needed some answers. He got out of the car and headed for her front door. Determined to get them.

{{{{{{{{

The fire was built more for sentiment and its ability to calm her nerves than for practical reasons. She sat in her study, sipping a glass of bourbon, and staring into the flames. Her life had changed so much in the past ten years. She glanced around the study, wondering. If she had made different choices, would she be in D.C.? Would the house be quiet or filled with the sounds of children? Would she have ended up with Jethro or would she have been ex-wife number three? Too many questions. When it came to Jethro, however, she knew that she had made the right choice by leaving him in Paris. It hadn't been a "choice' really. It was more like an ultimatum.

_Paris 1999_

_He found her on the park bench, shivering from the cold. He immediately took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. He sat next to her—waiting for her explanation. What little he had gotten over the telephone had painted a fuzzy picture. _

"_I couldn't do it, Will. I know that it was my job. My responsibility. She looked me in the eyes and begged for their life. I couldn't pull the damn trigger" _

_Special Agent William Decker looked up into the night sky, letting out a deep sigh. "Jenny, I know that this doesn't come naturally to you, but you could have at least brought her to me. I would have done it."_

_She glanced at him a moment through red rimmed eyes, "No, you wouldn't. She was just his handler, Will. She's never killed anyone."_

"_She finds the intel so Anatoli can kill them"_

"_So do I," Jenny added. "Doesn't that make me just as guilty of murder as she is?"_

_He paused to consider this. Jenny Shepard was a fine agent. She had proven herself in various missions throughout Europe. There had to be more to her reason behind not wanting to kill her target. He thought back—reviewing the habits of the target over the past six weeks. Home, market, clinic, home, clinic--- the pattern and Jenny's statement clicked. _

"_Their life? She's pregnant, isn't she?"_

_Jenny just nodded, unwilling to look at him. "I'll tell Gibbs what I've done and---"_

"_No. You won't"_

_She did look at him then, surprised by his firm answer. "He's gonna know, Will"_

"_Jenny, we have a saying when it comes to Jethro. 'What Gibbs doesn't know---"_

"_---can't hurt him" She supplied. _

"_No, can't hurt us" He lit a cigarette, letting the smoke curl and drift away in the light breeze of the early March air. "I'm not saying that I agree with your decision. Let me take care of it."_

"_How?"_

"_The Russians are looking for someone to blame. Right now, all they know is the hit was ordered by a Mr. Oshimyda. Let me take the heat on this one. I'm due for a transfer out west when we get home anyway. Their intel on us is sketchy at best. Give me a few days. I'll come up with some kind of compromise—something that will be the best for all of us"_

And he had come up with a compromise. Working with his anonymous contact in London, it was decided that it would be necessary for the three agents to split: Will would go to California, Jethro would return to D.C., and Jenny would stay in Europe. William had convinced her that it was the only way that they would stand a chance of this not coming back and biting them in the ass in the future. It was his insurance policy to help them all stay alive. It also meant that she must leave Jethro—without an explanation other than it was a decision that "was best for her". Keeping her end of the bargain meant that Gibbs would live. Leaving had been the hardest thing she had ever done. No, that wasn't true. Not being able to tell Jethro _the truth of_ _why_ she had to leave was the hard part. She could only imagine the reasons that he had come up with—none of which, she was sure, were charitable to her.

_It doesn't matter now_, she reasoned as she took another sip of her drink. _Liar. Yes, it did matter._

The knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced at the clock on the mantel. _Who would be at my door at 2200?_ She pulled her Glock from the desk drawer and slowly advanced toward the door.

The knocking came again, "Jenny, open up".

She frowned. The voice was familiar, but it couldn't be him—could it? She opened the door and peered around it.

"William?" The surprise was evident on her face.

"You going to let me in, Jenny?" William Decker stood in her doorway—the outline of his handsome features dimly illuminated from the hall lamp.

"Sure," she said, remembering her manners, "I'm just surprised to see you. I didn't know that you were in D.C"

Decker gave her an awkward smile and entered her home, closing the door firmly behind him.

"Jenny. We need to talk"

_____________

To Be Continued….


	5. Chapter 5

**Home Is Where the Heart Is**

**Disclaimer**: NCIS characters/plot lines are property of DBP/CBS/Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Authors Note**: Rating shifts to "M" in this chapter. I appreciate the reviews.

__________________________________________________________________________

**Chapter 5**

He glanced at his watch. Rule # 3 still applied—'always be reachable' was in place for a purpose. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

"McGee. I need you to run a set of plates for me"

"Now, Boss?"

"I catch you in the middle of something more important, Elflord?"

"Uh, no, of course not" He could hear his agent shuffling some papers, and then the faint sound of computer keys tapping in the background. "Ready, Boss"

"Maryland plates, three-eight-two-seven-five-bravo. Who, when, and where, McGee" He flipped the phone shut.

Minutes passed before his phone rang. "Yeah. Okay" He sat in the dark stillness of the car. It had not been the response he was expecting. He definitely would wait.

{{{{{{{{{{{

"How have you been, Jenny?"

"We've been through all the niceties--- I have the feeling that you didn't show up at my door at this hour for a social call, Will. Do we have a problem?"

"Gibbs did teach you to be direct, didn't he?" Decker lifted his glass of scotch and took a long drink. He had been in D.C. on personal business. When he heard Jenny was in town, he figured it had warranted a visit. Retirement didn't mean that he stopped watching a former teammate's back—or his own.

"Getting right to the point saves time. I learned that one _on my own_." She lifted an eyebrow, waiting for his answer.

"Paris. Interpol Conference, Spring, 2007—you remember it?"

"Of course I do. Why?"

"I got a call from a friend. Evidently you got a little too aggressive in your pursuit of an arms dealer by the code name of La Grenouille. Your interest generated some…_attention_."

"La Grenouille is dead." Her voice was flat, but laced with a touch of bitterness.

"You have anything to do with that?"

Jenny tempered her words slightly, "I wish I could say 'yes', but no—he died state side. Sanctioned by the CIA if my sources are correct. Why are you asking me about this now? That conference was almost two years ago"

"Call just came in last week. Like I said, it generated some attention. Natasha Lenkov."

"Should that name ring a bell?"

"I think you'll remember her by another one: Svetlana Chernitskaya." He saw the momentary flicker of alarm in her eyes. "She's been asking some questions. I thought it would be fair to give you the heads up."

Jenny stood and walked over to the fireplace, fiddling with the glass in her hands. "Has she made the connection?" she inquired softly.

"No" He came and stood beside her. "Look, Jenny. I'm not even saying that she will. But I don't want to underestimate her, either. We need to be careful."

The silence engulfed them for a few minutes—each lost in their own thoughts and memories.

"Was it the right decision, Will?" She finally asked.

"Please tell me you're not seriously asking me that"

"It wasn't just our lives that were affected. Sometimes I wonder if chalking something up to 'self-preservation' isn't just a load of bull shit. A cliché we use to appease a guilty conscience or to cover the fact that we… that I..." she corrected, .."screwed up." There was something in her voice—something wounded that sounded a little weary.

"Gibbs have anything to do with this change of heart?"

"Partly. I lied to him—I've lied to several people. I'm not proud of that. I'm not so sure that I want to keep doing it"

"You did what you had to do, Jenny. Do you honestly think Gibbs would not have made the same decision? Lives may still be at stake. Don't make the mistake of risking them because you have a damn guilty conscience."

Her stare still had the ability to make him cringe. He softened his voice, "I just want you to be careful."

He left not long after that. Jenny placed a light kiss to his cheek, asked that her regards be given to Sasha, his fiancée, and thanked him for the intel.

_Be careful_, he had admonished. She had been careful for ten years. She found it exhausting.

{{{{{{{

Decker stayed for thirty minutes. Gibbs observed him as he walked down the front walk and slid into his vehicle. Jenny watched William drive down the street and turn the corner before she closed the door. He debated whether he should delve into the motives behind the man's late night visit. Answers. He'd come here for them. No sense in backing down now.

{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{

She opened the door at the sound of the bell; quickly enough for him to wonder if she had remained in the foyer after Decker had left. He took in the strained smile, the fatigue evident in her eyes and in the way she held her body.

"You're awake"

"You always were the master of observation, Gibbs." She opened the door wider to allow him to enter. "Bourbon?" She threw the offer over her shoulder as she headed for her study. If she was going to face him, she wanted to be on her own turf. She heard him close the door behind him and lock it.

"Sure"

She poured him a glass and handed it to him, "Do you want this or not?" she asked when he hesitated to take it from her hand.

He took it, his fingers brushing hers and his gut tightening at the stimulation from the contact. _The woman still could affect him with the slightest touch. He thought it would bother him—it did, but not as much as he thought it should. _

"After your little outburst in the office today, I shouldn't even be talking to you" She stood behind her desk, drawing strength from it or from the fact that it was a solid obstacle between her and the man in front of her.

"Think of it as two old partners just catching up. Seems to be a lot of that going on tonight" He settled himself into the chair closest to the fire, enjoying the faint blush on her cheeks and the irritated glint in her eyes upon hearing his words and watching him settle—quite uninvited—into her study.

Her short laugh had a touch of sarcasm in it, "Are you emphasizing the 'old' or 'partners'?"

"Not old. We used to work well together."

"The operative phrase being 'used to'. That was a long time ago, Jethro."

"Decker didn't stay long" The comment was matter-of-fact, but he watched closely for her reaction.

"Am I under surveillance, Special Agent Gibbs?"

"Just an observation. Didn't realize you two kept in contact—especially since his retirement"

"It was just a quick visit to 'catch up'—borrowing your choice of words. I'm sure there is a lot you _don't_ know about me"

"Why is that, Jen?"

"What exactly are you asking?"

"I think I've worked out why you left. Why did you come back?"

The hint of a smile crossed her face, "I came back for the conference, Jethro."

He finished his drink, and stood—quickly closing the distance between them and coming around her desk. She looked up at him—a little confused---and disconcerted by his proximity.

"Paris--you left without saying 'goodbye'. Why?" She had expected anger—bitterness left over from wounded male pride. The fact that there was no hint of it in his voice—or his eyes-- unsettled her.

All of the emotion she had been holding inside for the past ten years tumbled forward, assaulting her senses, "I …I don't know."

"I don't believe you" He took her glass of bourbon from her hand, carefully placing it on the desk. "Tell me, Jenny. Why did it take you so long to come home?"

"Please don't ask me" Her voice trembled. "I can't answer that_" Especially in light of the conversation she had just had with Decker. _

"Can't or won't?"

"Can't" she softly admitted.

The answer wasn't satisfying, but it was the truth. He considered the woman in front of him. She was competent, organized, and level headed. She had always known exactly what she had wanted—and worked hard to attain it. Maybe it indicated that he had lost objectivity when it came to her, but the reality was that she had always amazed him. She still did.

He stepped into her personal space. His hand reached out and brushed an errant curl from her cheek. She closed her eyes and shivered at the contact—leaving little doubt as to the effect he was having on her self control.

"I missed you, Jen" He lowered his head and brushed his lips lightly to hers. Suppressed memories flooded his mind. His Jenny was right in front of him—real, not the creature that had tormented his dreams. His gaze skimmed over her body. He didn't want to want her like this—he had come for answers. He had little doubt that what was going to happen would only lead to more questions. They stared at each other—words not necessary to acknowledge the underlying sexual tension.

"This isn't going to solve anything" she hedged.

"Probably not" Gibbs cupped the back of her head and this time his kiss shattered the last fragments of his self-discipline. Without hesitation, Jenny returned the kiss, opening her mouth as she slid her arms up and around his neck.

While they kissed, he caressed her back, letting his hands drift and settle on her hips as he pulled close. When they both were breathless, he slid his hand into hers. He felt her wavering, and looked deeply into her eyes—an unspoken opportunity for her to end this if she wanted.

She loved this man—of that she had no doubt. Their relationship, however, had always been complicated: first by rules and then by secrets that had taken something extraordinary and destroyed it. Almost. A flicker of it remained. That hope she had thought about the night she had left London. Was it so wrong to want to lose herself in what was even if she knew it may only be for a brief time? In those few seconds, she made up her mind. She wanted this. She wanted him. She squeezed his handed softly, communicating that.

He gently pulled her to the couch. He sat her down, kneeling in front of her, situating himself between her knees. Her hands remained on his shoulders-- her gaze never leaving his face. He saw their mutual desire reflected in her eyes. He unbuttoned her shirt, eyes widening at the sight of her unfettered breasts. While his hand caressed one breast, his lips covered the other, pulling the taunt nipple into his mouth as he sucked greedily. She leaned back against the cushions, offering him a better angle until the need to touch him became too much. She lifted shaky hands and quickly worked the buttons of his shirt. Once undone, he pulled both his shirt and t-shirt from his body in a fluid motion. He could feel his erection straining against the material of his jeans. Her hands were now on his chest, feeling the hard muscles, warm skin, and pulling him to her as she reclined. The skin on skin contact fueled their efforts and soon both were divested of clothing. He traced a calloused finger from her breast bone to her right hip. He hesitated for a moment at the long scar on her right thigh, pausing to press a gentle kiss to the misshapen flesh. His fingers travelled up to her core, rubbing her softly—enjoying the view of her twisting in pleasure from his touch.

"Jethro" The request was husky, and charged with emotion. She reached between them and ran manicured fingers along his length. She let her hand encircle him and he groaned as she pumped gently. He grabbed her hand to still it. She shifted on the couch, and he covered her with his body. She guided him to her opening, and he lifted her hips, plunging hard and deep.

The first orgasm surprised her both in its rapidity and intensity. She cried out and rocked her hips against his, enjoying the sensation of him— still rock solid and sheathed inside her. He held her gently as the internal contractions subsided. He had stilled his movements when he felt her first start to quiver —knowing that waiting would prolong the pleasure for both of them.

"Still can't pace yourself" was murmured in a deep, sensual tone. She bit him playfully on the shoulder. He lifted his head and looked at her, noting the challenge in her eyes.

"Wanna bet?"

Encouraged by her touch, he dove back into her—finding the rhythm she loved and remembering what it felt like to take her and make her his. Their eyes held and locked as Jenny felt the second wave hit. His rhythm faltered as he felt her coming apart.

"Jenny" he groaned, trying to prolong the reunion. Seconds later, he pushed deep—whispering her name in a ragged breath as he shuddered his release within her. They lay entangled for a few minutes, hearts pounding, both panting as they slowly came down from the high. Gibbs placed a tender kiss to her forehead and moved on the couch so that they could be together—warmed by their combined body heat and the thin throw that he pulled over them. She curled into his arms, resting her head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat—remembering how the sound had made her feel only 72 hours before.

"Welcome home, Jen" she heard him whisper into the darkness.

_Home._ A ghost of a smile played on her lips at the thought. She finally slept.

To Be Continued …


	6. Chapter 6

**Home Is Where the Heart Is**

**Disclaimer: **NCIS and its characters belong to DBP/CBS/Paramount.

**Authors Note**: Thanks for sticking with me and following the story. I appreciate the reviews! This chapter is for Ellie---just because.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

**Chapter 6**

Gibbs fought the overwhelming urge to wake her and make love again in the pale light of the pre-dawn. He carefully disengaged himself from her arms, murmuring some excuse about the bathroom. He dressed and crept from her house. He didn't feel guilt— not exactly. He knew that once he had her again, walking away wasn't going to be an attractive option. He wasn't sure if the fault was his or hers—they both had known what they had been doing and damn the consequences.

He rejected the notion that it was a mistake—surely something that had felt that good had not been merely fulfillment of a physical need. Nostalgia, maybe? He didn't think so. Push come to shove, he didn't have a name for it. He did know that the sight, tastes, and sounds of Jenny Shepard weren't something that he was going to get out of his system any time soon. He was fairly certain he didn't want to. Of course, that put him back in the same position he was in ten years ago. That, he didn't like at all.

{ { { { { { { { { {

She knew after the first few minutes that Jethro wasn't planning on coming back to her embrace. It was easier for her to feign sleep as he stepped back into the study to pick up his jacket and his shoes. When she heard the front door click behind him, she stubbornly refused to let the tears fall. She gathered her clothes and went upstairs. The heat of the shower washed the smell of their lovemaking from her body, but it did nothing to assuage the memory of what it had felt like to be with him again. They hadn't talked afterward—talking had never been one of Jethro's strong points. He preferred to express himself in more physical ways. He was still very good at _expressing_ himself. The memory from last night tugged a reluctant and fleeting smile to her lips.

As she dried off and began to dress for the day, she wondered about _his_ thoughts. She shook her head—trying to figure out what Jethro thought and felt about personal things was not an easy task. She knew better than to expect that part of him had changed. Her suspicion was that the way he had left said it for him: a mistake made in the heat of the moment. When he said he had 'missed her' maybe it was the phyiscal aspect of their relationship that he had referred to. She knew herself well enough to admit that she was fully aware of what she had been doing---of what she had wanted. It had always been Jethro. The man could be insufferable at times, but she loved him. For the past decade, denying or trying to forget that fact been necessary. The chance was slim that last night had changed that.

She hated not being able to answer the question he had asked. She looked in the mirror and wondered—not for the first time—if there was a statute of limitations on regret.

{ { { { { { { { { {

"Gibbs!" The whirling dervish that was Abby threw her arms around him the minute he entered the lab. She hugged him tightly to her—releasing him only after he wheezed her name in an effort to draw a breath.

"Hey, Abs." He produced a Caf-Pow from behind his back and smiled at the look that came into her eyes. There was no one quite like Abby. He needed to get his focus back on the case. _Not on Jenny. _

"I got him! Or, at least I think I got him. Well… actually, I have more like a clue that will help you figure out which group of '_hims'_ in "We got him" that we are looking for"

His smile vanished as he creased his brow.

"Someone didn't get up on the right side of the bed this morning." She quickly back peddled at his resulting frown, "I mean, maybe you didn't sleep…. in a bed, or maybe you got up on the right side, only instead of a bed… it was the floor next to your boat…" she trailed off.

"Point, Abby?"

"I ran an analysis of the substance found on the shoes of Petty Officer Hudson—which usually wouldn't mean anything 'cause the bottoms of all of our shoes pick up disgusting things when we walk anywhere. My point is that it wasn't just _on_ her shoes—it was _inside _her shoes, too. That means it was on her stockings or her feet. At some point, she took her shoes off and was standing in it before she put her shoes back on. The coolest thing is --- guess what I found on the inside of the shoes from Dead Lady # 1 and Dead Lady # 2?"

"The same stuff"

"Right answer, Gibbs! And, according to Major Mass Spec, said 'stuff' is none other than CFR. Chromo--- you don't really care about what it's called, do you?" The sight of his grimace made her continue, "Okay! It's a concentrated heavy duty cleaner used to remove intense soil stains on synthetic carpets, upholstery and hard surfaces. If used in the right concentrations, it dries quickly and shouldn't leave any residue, but if it's not mixed correctly—which in this case I'd say it probably wasn't or if it wasn't dry---"

"They walked on the carpet too soon after it had been cleaned and it was still damp. When they wore shoes again, it would show up inside of the shoes."

Abby nodded enthusiastically, "All of your dearly deceased must have had their carpets cleaned within the past week"

Gibbs kissed her cheek, "Good work, Abby"

As he left for the elevator, Abby couldn't help but smile. Her silver haired fox had not slept in a bed last night—or if he had, it wasn't his own. He had never carried the smell of citrus and ginger to work with him before. Definitely something to think about.

{ { { { { { { { { {

McGee was already typing on his keyboard by the time Gibbs made it to the bull pen. "Abby called, Boss. I'm on it now."

Tony and Ziva were both on the telephone making calls to follow up on the break that Abby had found in the case.

"Boss, the management at Petty Officer Hudson's complex says that they haven't cleaned the carpet in her apartment in the past twelve months. They did, however, hire a company out of Fairfax to clean all of the hallways and several apartments in her building last week."

"Name, DiNozzo?"

"Action Cleaners"

"Gear up" He paused, watching his team scramble to gather their equipment. Finally! He hoped this was the break they had been looking for.

{ { { { { { { { { {

"I'm not impressed, Gibbs"

"Didn't expect you to be, Leon." He glared at the man behind what he would personally always consider to be former Director Tom Morrow's desk. Leon Vance was a tech agent with an inflated ego. _Jenny hated the man. She wanted to take that toothpick and shove it up---_

"Don't smile at me" snapped Director Vance.

"Sorry, Leon. Must have had something else on my mind. Can I go now, Director?"

"How do you plan on getting Action to pare down the names of the employees they had working in Petty Officer Hudson's building that week? Big building. One hundred and fifty apartments. Had to have at least twenty to twenty five people on and off that job site during our time frame. It may not even be one of their crew. I take it you've considered that"

Amanda Traxler and Beverly Reed—the first and second victims—had not had their carpets cleaned, but both had visited other navy wives who lived in Hudson's building. That had narrowed the field—but not enough.

"We've identified his hunting ground. Action is our best lead. Team is checking backgrounds right now."

"Sounds like a lot of wasted man hours on what might be a bad lead"

"You gotta better idea?" The minute it came out of his mouth, he regretted it. He took one look at the predatory gleam in Vance's eyes and deep in his gut he knew. "No" was his firm reply.

"Read the file. Good op. Got the rapist off the streets"

"Almost got an NCIS agent killed, too!"

"She's aware of the risks."

_He wasn't seriously thinking of letting Jen in on this op, was he?! Too risky. Too much history. _

Gibbs rolled his eyes, and snorted, "I'm not doing it! Use another agent! Give us time to check these guys out. We're identifying and notifying the tenants in the building who fit the profile. If he tries again, we'll nail him"

"Possibly putting a civilian at risk."

"Did she come to you with this idea? 'Cause if she did, it's a bad call, Leon"

Vance rose from his desk and leveled his gaze, the toothpick rolled in his mouth. "She didn't come to me. She fits the profile so I gave her an order—just like I'm giving you. I know it's always been lost on you Gibbs, but they write the rules for a reason. Following my orders is one of the rules. Are you telling me that we're going to have a problem?"

Gibbs shot him an icy glare, then turned and walked out of the office without another word.

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To Be Continued….


	7. Chapter 7

**Home Is Where the Heart Is**

**Disclaimer**: NCIS characters/plot lines belong to DBP/CBS/Paramount. It's sad, really. I think it would be much more fun if HBO owned them. Just my opinion, of course. No copyright infringement intended.

**Authors Note**: Let me know what you think! Reviews are appreciated! A special "thank you" to Ellie—who helped tidy this chapter up so it was readable!_______________________________________________________

**Chapter 7**

He needed coffee. He needed to think. Cup in hand, he wandered over to the short stone wall that bordered the park and sat—allowing a moment to wish he had a cold Corona in his hand and was staring at the ocean from a Mexican beach. _What now?_ The case bothered him. This would not end with a confession in an interrogation room. It would be ugly and violent. The only way they could stop this guy was going to be if he actually made a move on the target—and he didn't want to risk anyone in that manner. _Especially her._ Shannon, Kelly, Kate. Three women that he had not been able to protect. He didn't want to add Jen's name to that list.

_What __**do**__ you want? _That question was still there—regardless of her change in assignment. The simple solution would be a purely physical relationship. His mouth quirked. Simple. Ha! The word and woman frankly did not go together—they never had. She lived in Europe. He was in D.C. _If we had a chance, would I ask her to stay?_ _Hell,_ he admitted to himself, _I don't know._

He glanced at his watch and finished the coffee—crushing the cup and throwing it into the nearest recycling bin. What he did know is that he wanted them both to walk away from this unscathed and he had serious doubts that was possible.

{ { { { { { { { { {

Autopsy was the first place that he looked after finding the squad room empty. Every member of his team was there— including the one that Director Vance had temporarily assigned to him. All were currently engrossed in one of the ME's long winded stories. That didn't quite explain why the body was still on the table, or why Ducky seemed to be conducting his lecture over it. Gibbs did note with a slight smirk that Jenny seemed to be standing to the left of the group; the furthest away from the body and the nearest to a trashcan—evidently, dead bodies still made her queasy. The memory of watching her heave during her first autopsy could still make him smile.

"At first glance, it seems a clear-cut sexual assault. But, as I have learned in my quest to probe into the human mind, these things are anything but straightforward. Convoluted, perhaps is a better description. Our man has been struggling with deviant thoughts, if not behavior, for some time."

"His sister probably made him play with Barbie as a kid" McGee's face flushed slightly.

"And another piece of the Probie puzzle falls into place" Tony taunted. "I'll bet if this guy played with Barbie, she ended up with a little string around her neck—or at least missing a limb."

The head slap resounded in the relative hollowness of the autopsy suite, "Just kidding, Boss. Not really that… appropriate…now that I think about it" Tony rubbed the back of his head, dropping his eyes to avoid those of his boss. Ziva and Jenny shared a smile.

"Deviant fantasies, Anthony, can begin in children as young as five or six. Not exclusively of course, but particularly in a home with sexual abuse or open sexual promiscuity going on—this, in my opinion, is plausible in this case. He is acting out toward a mother, a sister, or a strong female figure that possessed physical attributes similar to our victims. It's not about the sex, although he obviously does violate his victims. He's calculating, cold, detached. This is about control and the need to dominate. He may need the stimulation the violence provides to arouse him enough to feel anything at all"

"He killed before, Duck?" All eyes turned to Gibbs.

"In all probability, Jethro. He's too meticulous not to have at least one skeleton in his closet. Escaping detection has made him bold—hence, three bodies within a week. It may be a sign that he seeks attention—recognition for what he views as his accomplishments"

"But attention could lead to more attacks, yes?"

"That is a possibility, my dear" Ducky said in answer to Ziva's question, "but for now, the local media seem to have fulfilled his need for his fifteen minutes"

"My concern is getting the sick son of a bitch off the street—not feeding his damn ego. Or taking unnecessary chances" The latter part of his statement was addressed unswervingly at Jenny. She looked directly at him, unwilling to be intimidated by his irritation with her regarding Vance's decision.

"Back to your desks. Now. We've got to work to do" He spun on his heel and exited the room abruptly. The other agents released a collective breath as he left.

"That went well" Jenny's sardonic remark attempted to lift the oppressive spirit in the room.

"No offense, but why is Gibbs so against this?" Tony turned to her, "You've been an agent for what… ten, twelve years?"

"Fourteen"

"You're experienced. You have us for back up. Help me out, people. Am I the only one not seeing it?"

Tim and Tony both looked at Jenny. Her gaze was on Ducky who suddenly seemed very concerned with covering the body on the table. "I'll go after Jethro, Dr. Mallard. Tell them if you wish" Jen followed Gibbs hasty exit out of autopsy.

"Ducky?"

The ME sighed heavily. "It was an undercover assignment in the Czech Republic"

"We know" McGee said, "Special Agent Shepard told us she used herself as bait to catch a rapist"

"What she most certainly _did not_ tell you is that she was injured in the resulting shoot out. She took a bullet to the right thigh. The bullet entered, hit her femur and shifted medially thus nicking her femoral artery. Such an injury can cause considerable blood loss—she almost died. She arrested on the table in the operating suite—it was very touch and go for the first 48 hours. I don't believe Jethro has ever quite forgiven himself for not taking out the shooter before the man got off that final, damaging round."

Ziva nodded, more to herself than anyone else. The scar she had seen in Cairo was vivid in her mind.

"Reminds me of Ari… and Kate" Tony added quietly.

"Except that our dear Caitlyn took the cruel and _final _blow, my boy. It is sometimes harder on the psyche to live with the incessant fear that you _may_ lose someone than it is to actually lose them."

The agents headed for the elevator—each lost in their own interpretation of what the ME had told them.

{ { { { { { { { { {

She caught him at the elevator—which surprised her. She wanted to touch him, but knew it would be a bad idea. He impatiently punched the button for the third time, frustration still rolling off him in waves.

"I didn't volunteer for this"

"I don't care"

"So I get punished because Vance is an idiot?"

The elevator doors opened and they both stepped inside. The doors closed and the elevator started—only to have Jenny reach out and flip the emergency stop switch. His look of irritated surprise was met with her expression of '_didn't think I'd remembered that trick, did you_?'

"What's bothering you, Jethro?"

"You honestly don't know, Jen?"

"Well, I confess that I haven't had to speak "Gibbs" in a while. I may be a little rusty in my translation and I left my phrase book at home. Heaven forbid you actually talk to me in a complete sentence"

"Damn it, Jenny!"

"Close. Still not a sentence, Jethro. What's really bothering you? That I'm – albeit temporarily—reassigned to your team? Or that you didn't get what you came for last night? No—wait! Maybe you did. You neglected to mention it before sneaking out of my study at 4am"

"I didn't sneak out" _So she had been awake! He didn't like the flash of guilt that he felt in his chest. If she had wanted him to stay, she could have said something!_

She lifted an eyebrow and waited --her look somewhere between amused and annoyed. "If you're waiting for me to tell you that I'm sorry about what happened---forget it. Blame it on fond memories or even the bourbon if that works better for you…"

When his only response was to close his eyes and scrub a hand over his face and through his hair, she swallowed her pride and continued.

"Vance has given me a job to do. I don't have to like it, but I have to do it" She leaned over and flipped the switch. The elevator lurched upward. "I'd like to know that you'll be there to cover my ass, Jethro" The doors opened, and she turned to give her parting shot. "Since it won't be literally, I am relying on figuratively". She swept into the hall—leaving him in stunned silence.

----------------------------------

To Be Continued…


	8. Chapter 8

**Home Is Where the Heart Is**

**Disclaimer:** Don't… sure wish I did. (Do I have to say this _**every **_time? The constant reminder gets depressing after a while) No infringements are intended.

**Authors Note**: Thank you to my reviewers! A special "thanks" to Ellie for the editing.

____________________________________________________________________________________

**Chapter 8**

His pale blue eyes watched her carefully as she paced in the warehouse inspecting the area that stored their chemicals and also doubled as the garage for the equipment and vehicles. Long legs, high heels, tight skirt, tantalizing curves, _pale skin… and red hair_. He slid a hand into the pocket of his work pants. With one finger, he opened the small knife and began pressing the blade into the flesh of his thigh. Not too deep—but deep enough to cause him pleasure. _This woman was going to buy the company? _His eyes narrowed. A present dropped into his lap was not likely. _But she had been tormenting him for two days_. He smiled.

{ { { { { { { { { {

"I don't like this." The statement was simple enough, and the sentiment was shared—he suspected—by his partner.

"I do not think that the Director cares if we like it or not. Our job is to watch her."

"And we can't do that when she's inside a concrete block building, now can we? One of us should have gone in with her. We could have been an assistant or something"

"And risk having one of the men we _did _interview remembering us? I think not, Tony."

"Well, Zee-vah," he drawled, "it was only an idea. In case you've forgotten, we didn't get much direction on this one."

"Jenny is a good agent. She can take care of herself."

"It's not Jenny that I'm worried about." His cell phone rang.

"Whatcha got, DiNozzo?"

He spared a _'speak of the devil'_ glance at Ziva. "Well, Boss, she's been inside for about two hours now. The glasses are functional on our end; Abby confirms that the feed is going into her lab and being put through facial recognition now. No hits that I know of." He glanced at his watch. "She should be heading home in about another twenty. We're going to pull into the garage in the next ten. We'll watch and see if she picks up any company on the way."

"GPS working?"

Tony glanced at his PDA---yes, the red light that indicated the GPS patch currently on Agent Shepard's body was operational. "No problem here."

"When she leaves, stick with her. McGee and I will relieve you at 2300."

"On it, Boss." He closed his phone. "I don't like this" he repeated.

{ { { { { { { { { {

The foreman assured her that all employees were present and accounted for. If he wondered why she had insisted on meeting his entire crew, he did not press. Those jerk cops at the Navy yard had been the catalyst to convince him it was time to retire. The woman was offering to buy his company at a substantial profit. He didn't want to push his luck.

Jenny wandered around the warehouse with the foreman, trying hard to appear as if she were listening to his every word. She mind was on anything but OSHA requirements for storage of hazardous chemicals. Her time here was almost up for today. Whether or not it would yield any fruit was yet to be seen. Her speech, short but sweet, had been well received. She had slowly and carefully panned the sea of about 40 faces in front of her. The thought that one of the men was potentially a serial rapist and murderer had never far from her mind as she tried to make eye contact with each one—allowing the camera in her eyeglasses to send photos back to the NCIS lab.

Inwardly she cursed the Director for putting her in this position; the uneasiness she felt around Jethro only exacerbated her anger. If anything, he was more remote since their 'conference' in the elevator three days earlier. His body language, however, spoke volumes—and she and the team were bearing the brunt of his displeasure. To her knowledge he hadn't verbally contributed anything to the set up of the operation—only indicating his approval of the finer points of the plan with the occasional grunt or nod of his head. His team whispered concerns about this, but evidently no one was brave –or stupid—enough to broach the subject.

The GPS patch had been Agent McGee's idea and had been explained to her in some detail by the bubbly Goth scientist named Abby. The knife taped to her inner thigh was courtesy of Ziva. They shared a knowing smile when the Israeli had suggested it. Jenny remembered that having a knife---and the imparted Mossad training on how to creatively use it—had saved her life on more than one occasion.

Forty-eight hours into an undercover op, when she was supposed to be attending a boring conference in one of the safest locations on the planet, her nerves were starting to tingle. It was a bad feeling. She'd had the same feeling on that fated night in Czechoslovakia. She shivered and hoped this would be over soon.

{ { { { { { { { { {

If she hadn't been so focused on the picture that came across on her Blackberry at that moment, she might have noticed the man in the shadows. But the combined grins of Andrea and Henry distracted her—giving him the advantage. The blow landed on the right side of her abdomen—a well placed strike that momentarily knocked the wind out of her and caused her to drop onto one knee. Instinctively, she rolled and was back up—facing her attacker. In a split second, she assessed the situation: he had no visible weapon, but he was livid that she had chosen to fight back. Anger and adrenaline were a dangerous combination. He lunged and caught her shoulders. The impact of his heavy body combined with the disadvantage of her heels threw her off balance and she landed roughly on the concrete of the garage floor. _Fight, Shepard!_ She wiggled, the cement cold and unyielding under her back—a frantic struggle to free herself from under his weight. Her left hand was trapped between their bodies, but the right made it free and she used it to make a fist and hit him squarely against his head. He only grunted at the impact. Her movements caused her already short skirt to slide up. _The knife!_ She flexed the fingers of her left hand and shifted. She could feel the length of the blade. _Just an inch and I'll have it! _

In the distance she heard a car door slam and the sound of someone running. A voice shouted. The man rolled fractionally and it was the reprieve that she needed to rip the knife from its hiding place and arch it up and over – following her attackers movements. She felt the knife plunge into flesh. She released the handle and rolled the opposite direction; desperate to gain an advantage as she braced for another assault.

"NCIS! Freeze!"

"Federal Agents!"

The combined shouts of Tony and Ziva were welcome sounds to her ears, but if her assailant heard them, he didn't indicate it.

"You bitch!" He growled, pulling the knife from his abdomen and throwing it aside. His eyes were fierce as he moved forward.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Three shots.

A look of surprise crossed his features before he looked down at the rapidly spreading redness that was soaking his shirt. He fell forward—crushing her again under the weight of his body.

{ { { { { { { { { {

She refused to let the EMTs do anything other than a precursory check. She had scrapes and scratches, but nothing that she felt Ducky couldn't handle. As the adrenaline seeped from her body, she could feel the ache from the bruises she was sure were forming on her ribs and lower back. She wanted a hot bath and a large glass of bourbon. If Ducky wanted to throw a few pain killers her way, she wasn't going to refuse them.

Jenny looked dispassionately at the body that still lay on the pavement next to her car. _He looked so normal._ An odd choice of words, she thought, for a psychopath who had been trying to kill her less than an hour ago. Ducky had wrapped a blanket loosely around her shoulders before leaving her sitting on the end of his transport truck. _God, what a day!_

"Coffee" It was more of a statement than a question as the cup dangled in front of her.

"Thanks" She took it, grateful for the warmth it provided and the fact that it gave her something to hold onto. _Jamaican blend. Her favorite._

He looked at her. She had wiped the blood from her hands, but it remained on her shirt and skirt—a crimson souvenir of the ordeal. His thoughts travelled back in time to another night when she had been covered in blood—only then it had been her own. He swallowed hard, forcing the bile and the memory back where they came from.

She saw his puckered brow and her gut told her what he was remembering, "I'm fine, Jethro. Probie mistake! I should never have let my guard down." She indicated the blood stains on her clothing with an edge in her voice. "Thank God for Tony and Ziva"

"Yeah. Already did."

"I take it we're back on speaking terms? What's the coffee? A peace offering?"

"Something like that" he said with a tentative smile. _She was alive and that was enough—for now._

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To Be Continued….


	9. Chapter 9

**Home Is Where the Heart Is**

**Disclaimer: **NCIS characters, story lines, and anything else that rings a bell belongs to DBP/CBS/Paramount. All of the mistakes—well, those are totally mine.

**A/N**: Thank you to "almost Mildred"—who made me see that a negative can have a positive side, too. I appreciate the folks who are following the story—thanks for taking the time to review! I would have had this up yesterday, but the "Document Loader" wasn't working.

**Chapter 9**

Natasha Lenkov stared out the window. It was raining. She glanced down at the file in her hands, pausing to look again at the photographs. Her eyes narrowed as she considered the woman in the picture. Her hair was different—but the eyes were the same. _It was her_. Ten years was a long time to wait for anything—least of all revenge. She had lost so many things on that fated night: her name, her life, her love. There had been promising leads over the years, but all resulted in nothing more than dead ends-- and increasing frustration. _Not this time_. She flipped through the photos until she found the one she was looking for. She tapped a finger lightly on the smiling face. _The woman would lead her, but he held the key._

{ { { { { { { {

The warm bath had soaked away some of the pain; now she was letting the bourbon have a chance to work its magic on loosening stiff muscles and chasing away memories. She found herself in the backyard on the iron chaise—the thick cushion a welcome support to her body. She looked up into the night sky and admired the stars. The sheer vastness of the black tapestry above her usually had the ability to help her forget her troubles, but not tonight. She let her thoughts drift. She was clearly thankful to be alive, but her conflicting emotions concerning the return to London at the end of the week confused her. _Why? It was home and someone was waiting._ That should have been enough—but it wasn't.

"I really am fine, you know." The breeze had picked up the scent she knew could only belong to one person. The visit was unannounced, but not entirely unexpected.

"I wanted to check'" Gibbs came around from behind her and took a seat on the step of her deck. "Nice night. You always did like to look at the stars"

She was pleased that he remembered_. Her coffee, her habits_. She bit her lower lip when she realized that not all of the memories he had of her were good ones_. How I wish some things could be different. _"Drink?"

A half smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she watched him reach for her glass and take a healthy swallow. "You shouldn't drink this stuff if you're taking muscle relaxers"

"You would"

"Yeah, well, that's different." She imagined the smile she heard in his voice, "You're not me" He took another drink of her bourbon, "Although, it's only fair to warn you that you're still gonna feel like hell in the morning"

She moved to sit up and the action pulled a small groan from her lips as taut muscles protested. "In that case, I think I've earned whatever help I can get tonight". She rolled her neck, trying to find some relief in the gesture. "What works for you when you're stiff?"

He cleared his throat, trying—and failing-- to bite back the response that sprang to his lips."You really need me to answer that, Jen?" He grinned widely at her sharp intake of breath.

"I meant _muscle _stiffness, Jethro" The tone was brisk —a futile attempt to diffuse the obvious misinterpretation of her question.

He got up and pushed her gently forward, allowing him to slip behind her and sit on the chaise. "Let me" was all that he whispered before she felt his warm hands gently fall to her shoulders and began to knead the muscles there. Any hesitation was lost the minute that he began to massage—and she felt herself give in to the skilled ministrations of his strong hands. _It's not a sexual thing, Jenny. Get a grip. It felt so good… _Her head fell forward as his thumbs ran down her spine, soothing the muscles and drawing the tension from her body.

He'd been so careful around her ever since she had left him standing speechless in the elevator. Stealing glances only when he was sure she was absorbed in something else. But he hadn't been able to stay away completely—trusting Abby to keep him informed while he maintained the illusion of cool detachment. He made himself a promise that he wouldn't touch her again until he figured out where this was going. _Not until he figured out what this was._

Then he saw the blood at the crime scene… and couldn't stand it a minute longer.

He watched her from the shadows next to her house—trying to convince himself that she didn't need him—didn't want him. He wanted her. Needed her so badly that it made him ache inside. He'd made more progress on his boat during the last few sleepless nights than he had the entire month before she came back into his life. Bourbon had even failed him—the taste only lingered in his mouth, reminding him of her._ He wasn't going to fall in love with her again_. It hurt too much the first time. He had made up his mind… _hadn't he_? The physical reaction that his body experienced when it touched hers was totally expected. _The emotional one was not. _He felt her relax under his touch while his own body became that much tighter.

"I can hear you thinking, Jethro"

He didn't doubt that. Her comment made him smile. Hell, once upon a time all it took was a look and they were reading each other's minds, finishing the other's sentences, communicating without the need for burdensome words. He missed that. _He missed her_.

Her voice turned husky a moment later, when he placed a small kiss to the back of her neck. She tensed again—his touch had definitely moved from more than comfort. "What do you want, Jethro?" This question left no room for misinterpretation. It couldn't –not this time.

His hands stilled, but he did not remove them from her shoulders. He wasn't one for making empty promises—Jen hadn't asked for any. Even years ago, she hadn't pushed or pressured him. What they both needed was honesty."I shouldn't have left like I did the other night"

Knowing the man as she did, his words were the closest thing to an apology she was ever going to get. Jethro had rules concerning such things. _At least he hadn't said it was a mistake_. She turned, facing him on the chaise. "I'm going back to London in a few days"

"I know" He moved his hand under her hair and slowly stroked her neck. She closed her eyes, drifting on the wonderful sensations set off by his touch. All of the reasons why this shouldn't happen again were fighting with all the reasons that shouted it was a delightful idea. One group was definitely winning the battle. He angled his head and took her lips in a kiss. His mouth was warm, carefully moving across hers, intent on fueling the slow burn between their bodies. She tasted the bourbon and the coffee. She wanted---_what she couldn't have._ The cold reality hit her. He must have felt the change because he lifted his head. For a moment, she watched as uncertainty wrestled with the passion in his blue eyes. Trembling, she pulled away, choosing to look down at her hands instead of his face.

"In Paris, I should have ---" His hand stilled the rest of the sentence on her lips. Green eyes locked with blue. He traced the outline of her mouth with a gentle finger—lingering on the fullness of her lower lip. She silently willed him to see the sincerity in her eyes and in her heart. "I'm sorry, Jethro" she finally managed. He might think an apology was a sign of weakness—she, however, did not.

He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I thought I lost you" He rested his forehead against her own. "I know that I don't want that" was his guarded admission.

He could have been referring to any number of times in their relationship. Jenny decided that it didn't matter _when_—what mattered was that the almighty Leroy Jethro Gibbs had actually admitted it.

What happened next flowed as easily as breathing. When he pulled back and let his eyes search hers, he saw an extraordinary knowing there: desire mixed with understanding.

He caught a strand of her red hair, allowing it to twist and curl around his finger. His eyes darkened and his voice thick with emotion asked, "How about we try and do it right this time?"

Jenny let herself be drawn to her feet and pulled into the warm circle of his arms. "I thought you'd never ask".

The trip to her room and been painstakingly slow-- delayed by intermittent kisses and caresses. He lay down beside her on the bed, stroking a hand through her hair, over her shoulders, taking pleasure in the alabaster satin of her skin. When he dipped his head to kiss her, her taste was a heady combination of salt and sweet. They both were unhurried and lingering ---not the way he remembered them making love in the past.

Gibbs resolved to use his body to try and express what he lacked the eloquence to put into words. _Offering her all that he was capable of giving—if she wanted it._ Every time his mouth returned to hers, it went deeper. Every time she asked for more, he granted it. She returned his love with a generosity that astonished him. His body pressed into hers—hard against soft. Just when he was sure his control would slip, her touch would calm him, allowing him to slide easily back in to the rhythm they set. Slow, seductive, savoring. When he felt her finally shudder with release, he buried his face into her hair as his body surged with his own climax. They landed softly back to earth together. _Complete._

{ { { { { { { { {

She knew it was morning, but didn't want to open her eyes. She took pleasure in the feel of the strong body behind her, the arm curved around her side, and the hand that was possessively cupping her right breast. A thumb brushed over a sensitive nipple and she caught her breath—the response to the caress threatening to set off a chain reaction in other areas of her body.

No promises had been given last night; no mention of a shared future. She hadn't expected any from him. The notion of a future was complicated by more than geographic location. She wasn't sure either of them was capable of offering it. There was so much she still needed to tell him. She had no idea where to begin.

As she lay there, with the glow of their loving still on her skin, she realized that the stroking had stopped. She rolled, smiling slightly; eyes warm as they met those of the man beside her. "You still snore" was her playful accusation.

"You", he smiled and tugged on the sheet, "still take all the covers and most of the pillows"

"I have more to cover up than you do"

He pulled the sheet away –covering her nakedness with his body, "I like it better when I get to cover you"

She flipped and Gibbs found himself on his back, a smiling red head looking down at him. "I like it better like this"

"Well, we always did argue about who should be on top" He gave her a genuine smile—the kind she loved to see because it transformed his whole face.

"Chauvinist"

"Maybe" His hand fisted in her hair, pulling her down to meet his lips. His body began to stir and he let his other hand trail down her back. A second later, he broke away, cursing at the cell phone resting on the night table. Jenny rolled away and he instantly missed her warmth. He sat up and reached for the phone. "Gibbs. Okay" He glanced down at his watch, "Twenty-five ought to do it" He snapped the phone closed and sighed.

"What's wrong, Jethro?" She ran her hand across his back, feeling the muscles tense. She worried as he lifted a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes.

"Vance. Wants us in his office ASAP"

"Both of us?"

"Yeah, Jen. Us. As in you and me"

"Why?" She lifted a brow and frowned.

He rolled his eyes, "I don't know. We go and see him and we'll find out" Seeing her pout, he let out a small chuckle. "C'mon, Jenny. You can have the shower first. I'll make coffee"

"Not the way I wanted to start my day" Jen muttered.

He leaned down and kissed her quickly, "Me either"

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To Be Continued….


	10. Chapter 10

**Home Is Where the Heart Is**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own NCIS or any of the characters/dialogue you might recognize. I'm only borrowing them so I have a bit of distraction from my Nursing Research class (Trust me, if you were taking the class, you'd understand) DBP/CBS/Paramount are some of the luckiest people I know.

**Authors Note**: If I live through Research next week, you'll get an update. If not, well.... it might be a while. Reviews are always appreciated.

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**Chapter 10**

"Go right in Agent Gibbs. He's expecting you" Director Vance's assistant waved them both inside the large steel doors.

Vance dark brown eyes looked down at his watch, then over both agents before he spoke, "Glad you could make it"

"Got here as soon as I got your message, Director" Gibbs had refused the offer of a chair. Jenny, however, sat.

"You, Agent Shepard?" The brown eyes drifted and she felt herself stiffen under his gaze. She lifted her chin and placed a chilly smile on her face, "Agent Gibbs was kind enough to offer me a ride into the Navy yard, Sir"

"There a reason you needed to see both of us, Leon?"

"Special Agent William Decker---"

"—is retired and living in Los Angeles" came Gibbs quick reply.

"—is dead." The tone was slightly condescending. He evidently enjoyed knowing something that his lead agent did not. "Flew in from his funeral last night"

The blood drained from Jenny's face. She was very glad that she was sitting. _Decker was dead?_ "How?" She wanted the question to come out strong, but she feared the tremor in her voice had managed to slip through.

"Officially? Heart attack."

"I suppose you have an _un_official theory on the cause of death, Leon?"

"I do. And I don't think it was from natural causes"

"You think he was murdered?" Her heartbeat kicked up steadily. _He had tried to warn me to be careful. Oh, God. If it meant…_

"How is that our problem?" Gibbs interjected, "You have a whole building full of NCIS agents on the West coast to handle it."

Vance opened a red file folder on his desk; he glanced over the pages before looking pointedly at Gibbs "Operation in Paris, ran from October 1998 to March 1999. Three NCIS agents. Target was a Russian spy ring. Do I need to go on?"

"Classified op" Gibbs reply was caustic, "But since you have the file, you obviously have read it. What does this have to do with anything?"

"Like I said, three agents on that op. One of them is dead. I believe it had something to do with a breach in Paris"

Gibbs looked from Vance to Jenny. She looked pale. "Not possible" He firmly added, looking to his former partner for confirmation. If he expected her to aid his defense of the op, he was sadly mistaken. "Jen?"

She stood and walked across the room to the large windows that looked out over the harbor. She couldn't breathe_. Why now? _She simply shook her head, refusing to answer.

Vance noted the interaction with a faint look of annoyance, "At Decker's funeral, a man came looking for a Mr. Oshimyda" At that name, both agents jerked and looked at him. "Now do I have your attention?"

"Oshimyda was our code word in case we were compromised. We weren't. We got out clean"

"Decker knew something you didn't--and now I know he wasn't the only one" Vance turned and directed his next question to Jenny. "Do you want to tell him, or should I?"

Her green eyes were a mixture of fury and pain. "How do you…" she began heatedly, and then it dawned on her. "It was you… in London. Decker came to you, didn't he?"

"He didn't tell me much back then—just that something needed to be buried. I told him the best way to do that would be if the agents running the op were separated. I'm working on piecing the rest of it together now."

Gibbs looked from his boss to the woman standing near the window. _What in the hell was Vance talking about? Decker's contact in London? They had been split up because their cover had been blown? Jenny knew about it this whole time?_ His gut was churning and he was struggling to maintain control. He slammed his hand down on the desk. "One of you damn sure better tell me what's going on!"

Jenny turned from Vance and looked at Gibbs. The blue eyes that had looked at her with trust and passion this morning were now guarded. "Svetlana. She's still alive, Jethro. I didn't …I couldn't do what I was supposed to do. Decker knew. He told me that he would take care of it."

"Why in the hell am I just hearin' about this now?!" His eyes turned a fierce shade of blue and she noted his vice-like grip on the back of one of the conference chairs. "Why didn't you tell me, Jen?!"

"I don't blame you for being angry, Jethro. I would have told you, but Will ordered me not to."

"Angry?" His voice was harsh, "I'm _way _past angry!" He turned to Vance, "Are you saying this is what got Decker killed?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out, Agent Gibbs. Decker had what his girlfriend called "an insurance policy". She was told to contact a 'Jenny Shepard' if anything ever happened to him. I volunteered to deliver it for her. She gave me a letter at the house after the funeral—only numbers. Some kind of code." He pushed a button on his computer and a series of numbers appeared on the plasma.

"71399-2181-5378. That mean anything to either of you?"

Jenny glanced at the numbers. "No"

"Agent Gibbs?"

"No. Svetlana killed Decker? How in the hell did she find him? That was ten years ago!"

Vance sat down at his desk. "I don't even know if the woman is in the country. I took photos of a man asking for Mr. Oshimyda at Decker's funeral. I sent them to Abby to see if she could find a match. She did." He pushed another button and the face of a man replaced the numbers on the plasma. "Viggo Drantyev. Burn alias and a damn good one at that. Either of you recognize him?"

Both agents glared at the screen. "No" they replied in unison.

Jenny tried to look at Jethro, but his eyes only briefly touched hers—a clearly dismissive glance that cut deep. _He's blaming me for Decker's death_. She was more disappointed than surprised. The tension in the room was palpable.

"I think Viggo, whoever in the hell he is, was hired to kill Decker. Since he used the code name from Paris, it had something to do with that op. Putting Svetlana in the picture makes sense. Decker sent you a warning. Until we find this Mr. Drantyev, I need to know where you are at all times. I've already lost one agent—I don't plan on losing any more. It's time someone took into consideration their loyalty to this agency instead of covering up mistakes"

Bringing up loyalty was, in Jenny's opinion, hitting below the belt. _And the last straw_. "How dare you question my loyalty?! I've been nothing but loyal to this damn agency since I started! Correct me if I'm wrong, _Director_," she spat the words with particular emphasis on his title, "but didn't I just hear you admit that _you _were an active participant in this scheme? Don't act as if you care about the agents involved now—you sure as hell didn't care about how we felt a decade ago!"

"What I care about, Agent Shepard is the reputation of this agency! An important op was bungled ten years ago. It cost a man his life. I'll deal with your failure later, but now I need answers. You and Agent Gibbs are my only leads at the moment. Until then, you both are under protective custody."

She moved quickly toward the door, all fire and temper. _Her failure! Like she hadn't lived with the consequences of that for long enough_. _He had the nerve to question her loyalty?!_ "Don't even try it, Jethro!" Her shove was fierce and she eluded his grasp.

"Jen---"

"Both of you go to hell!" she shot back over her shoulder as she stormed out of the office.

"Save it." Vance lifted a hand to silence any further argument. "You are to remain at headquarters until further notice. Work with your team to find Drantyev. I hope he will lead you to Svetlana, but you're to stay here until we know more. Shepard, too. Do I make myself clear?"

{ { { { { { { { { {

"Look, I'm not going to say it again. I asked for four tapes and you only sent me three" McGee paused, listening to the response, "I'll take the digital feed. Thank you"

The slamming of a door made him glance at the catwalk above him. Tony and Ziva were equally captivated by the display of the petite red head who stalked towards the elevator.

"Wonder which one pissed her off?" Tony speculated, "Twenty bucks says it was Gibbs"

Ziva watched the exchange with a keen eye, "I do not think I have ever seen her that angry, Tony. Gibbs would not be that… unwise"

"McGee!" Gibbs barked. His team instantly tensed---the Boss was coming down the steps and appeared to be equally furious. Not a good sign. "Have TSA pull every piece of security footage on a Viggo—"

"Drantyev. Already on it, Boss. Flew into Washington-Dulles four days ago. Director Vance asked me.. to… um, look into it last night" He drew back as Gibbs invaded his personal space.

"And?"

"They're sending over the final tape now"

"Mind telling what we _do_ know?!" He paced the bull pen. Tony glanced at Ziva and cringed. Gibbs being angry was one thing. Pacing and angry were worse—what Abby would call "full blown Gibbs mode".

"Uh, sure" Tim's fingers flew over his keyboard, pulling up information. "Viggo Drantyev. Burn alias. Travelled four days ago from Moscow to D.C., caught a flight to L.A., and then back to D.C. yesterday."

"Pull up another name. Svetlana Chernitskaya. Run it through Interpol, Eastern Europe."

More tapping on the keyboard. "Svetlana Chernitskaya. Handler for a Russian mobster, Anatoly Kukov, who starting selling his services after the Cold War. Active until 1999. Then they both disappear. No record of them since then"

"Know 'em, Boss?" Tony asked.

"I thought I did" came the bitter response, "I thought I knew a lot of things back then"

"Try another name, Agent McGee," A still angry Jenny Shepard stepped in front of Ziva's desk. Her voice was harsh — showing the glimmer of steel beneath the polished feminine exterior. "Natasha Lenkov"

Momentary confusion crossed Tim's face. He glanced at Gibbs—suddenly wishing that he hadn't. The look in the Boss's eyes was one of pure hostility. He normally would feel sorry for whoever caused that expression, but he had a feeling Agent Shepard didn't need his sympathy.

"On it." The rhythm of computer keys did little to break the awkward silence. "There. Got a hit." It came on screen. "Natasha Lenkov. Citizen of Uzbekistan. Came out of nowhere in 1999. Built a very successful import/export business. No record of a marriage. Does show a son, Matvei, born in 1999. She has an active passport, but no record of travel to the United States."

"What are we putting on the BOLO for this Viggo guy, Boss?"

"Murder of a former NCIS Special Agent, DiNozzo" Tony looked stunned, but then started typing. Gibbs pointed roughly at Jenny. "Ziva! Take her to a conference room and make damn sure she stays there until I come and get her!" He started towards Abby's lab, but Tim's voice stopped him.

"Got the last tape, Boss. Feed from Dulles" Gibbs came back into the bull pen.

"There's Viggo in the hallway. He's passing up baggage claim"

"Professionals do tend to travel light"

"Outside of the terminal. He's hailing a cab…"

"Cab number and ---"

"Wait!" Ziva's voice cut through the exchange and caused Tim to stop the tape. "Look. Professionals most definitely do not share cabs"

The feed clearly showed a woman and a boy getting into the cab after Viggo.

"Viggo wasn't traveling alone. A hit man's version of a family vacation?" Tony offered flippantly.

"That's her. Svetlana—Natasha—whatever in the hell she calls herself now"

It was the low moan of "Oh, dear God, no!" that pulled all eyes from the airport footage to Jenny Shepard's face.

Every ounce of blood in her body turned to ice. Air refused to enter her lungs. She stood there—frozen, a look of unspeakable horror on her face. Time stopped—her mind allowing her to focus only on the image of the young boy on the plasma.

"Jenny?" Ziva moved quickly, standing behind the older woman in case she fell, placing a supporting hand to her back.

_She wanted to run. Hide. No! She wanted to kill and protect_. She shrugged off Ziva's hand and took two shaky steps towards the screen.

"Zoom in, McGee" The image of a dark haired boy filled the screen. Now enhanced, it was easy to make out the smattering of freckles across the boys nose—and the confused look on his face.

"You know him? Svetlana's son?"

She forced her eyes to meet Gibbs piercing blue ones. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

His anger towards her melted a degree. Jen _looked panicked---and she wasn't a woman who allowed herself that luxury._ His gut twisted.

"He looks to be about the right age---" began McGee.

Jenny swallowed hard, her gaze moved from Gibbs to the boy on the screen. "He's not her son", she managed to squeeze out.

"What do you 'mean not her son'?" Gibbs demanded.

"That boy is not her son" She repeated, her eyes never leaving the plasma. "He's mine".

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**To Be Continued…**


	11. Chapter 11

**Home Is Where the Heart Is**

**Disclaimer**: Nope, I don't. It's the second item on my "All I Want for Christmas" list to Santa this year (Bet you'll never guess what my first item is *grin*) No copyright infringement intended.

**Authors Note**: Sorry for the delay in update!

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**Chapter 11**

_Henry! _

She fought the urge to panic. Breaking down was not an option—especially in front of Gibbs and his team. Her rapid heartbeat tried to keep up with her thoughts. She was willing to put a lot on the line for the sake of her job, but the life of her nine year old son was not one of them. She was sure her whole body was quivering, but she somehow found her voice. "Agent McGee, when was this taken?"

"Yesterday evening, Ma'am. About 1800."

She shook her head. "Not possible." She lifted the Blackberry from the clip at her side, fumbling at the keys to pull up the photo that Andrea had sent a little after 1700 the day before—the smiling face of Henry squeezed her already wounded heart. "I got this yesterday. Henry was with one of my team in London. How could he be at Washington-Dulles an hour later?" She handed the phone to McGee, silently hoping that if he saw the trembling of her hand that he wouldn't comment on it. He did—and he didn't. He gave her a small smile of support before pressing a series of keys. He frowned.

"Boss, I'd like to take the phone down to Abby. The date and time stamp on this photo confirm that it was received yesterday. With Abby's help, I can find out exactly when it was sent and possibly taken. If the boy is… well, Ma'am, are you sure it's your son?"

"Positive, Agent McGee" Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears.

"So this Russian lady changes her name, hooks up with another hit man who takes out one of our former agents, then she kidnaps Agent Shepard's son? Why would she do that?" Tony looked from his boss to the agent in front of him. They all stopped to consider his question. Ziva could be heard in the background, speaking softly in Hebrew into the telephone.

"To manipulate me into giving her information that Viggo was unable to get from Special Agent Decker" Jen's voice was stronger now—anxiety was being replaced by anger.

"The Director's waiting for you in MTAC. They have London on line" McGee's eyes shifted from Gibbs to the woman who stood in the middle of the squad room. He had taken the initiative and placed the call to Vance's assistant.

"How do you want us to handle this, Boss?"

If Tony was surprised that the orders came from someone other than Gibbs, he hid it well.

"Agent McGee, take the phone to Abby. Make sure it remains operational in case a call comes through. Tony, update the BOLO to include Natasha and...my … son, Henry. Be sure it states clearly that they are to be located, but _are not_—I repeat—**_are __not _**to be approached. Ziva, get info on that cab company. I want the name of that driver, where he took them and what time he dropped them off." She took a deep breath and looked at Gibbs expectantly. Their eyes met and held for a beat.

"Do it" he replied. The members of his team scrambled to comply.

She opened her handbag and pulled out her wallet. She took a photo from it and handed it to Tony. "You'll need a better picture for the BOLO. This is the most recent one I have. It was taken this past Christmas"

Tony took it from her, "I'll get right on it. We'll find him, Jenny"

Ziva hung up the telephone. "I have a few friends in London. I will be receiving a call regarding any intel concerning this Natasha Lenkov"

"Todah, Ziva."

"Henry is a smart boy, Jenny. He will not panic. He knows we will come for him" She accepted the older woman's slight nod as her acknowledgement of her statement.

She picked up the phone again, this time to call the cab company McGee had identified in the photo.

Gibbs watched as his team began to work. _Her son. _The statement kept playing through his mind. _Jenny had a child? _From their interaction, Ziva was evidently aware of his existence. A thousand questions came to mind, but he firmly shut the door on them. They could wait. Jen had a son---and there was a chance she could lose him. A picture of Kelly's smiling face swam across his mind. He knew that loss. He resolved to do everything in his power to make sure that Jen would not have to experience it.

He moved and was at her elbow, guiding her to the stairs that led to MTAC, "C'mon, I'm goin' with you."

She pulled her elbow from his hand, "Not necessary."

He suppressed a familiar impatience_. Pure red head—stubborn, angry, and fighting to maintain control._

"The hell it isn't" was his quiet, but firm reply. He steered her toward the stairs again, "We're gonna find him, Jen" She saw the resolve in his eyes and heard it in his voice—desperately wishing it was possible to transfer some of that confidence into her own mind.

"What if it's too---"

"Have you ever doubted me?"

"Professionally? Never"

"Then why are you doubtin' me now?" They climbed the stairs and disappeared into MTAC.

{ { { { { { { {

She took one look at the expression on Marcus' face and she knew. She slipped the headset on and refused a chair—this news she was determined to take standing up. "What happened, Marcus?"

"God, Boss! I don't know what to tell you. Andrea and Henry left after work two days ago. She said they were taking a short holiday at the country house. We had no reason to suspect anything was out of the ordinary. She didn't check in today, but I didn't worry about it—at least not until the Director called a few minutes ago. We triangulated her cell phone. Signal shows her at a park near her flat in Kensington. Fitzgerald is in route as we speak"

"When was the last time she checked in?"

"Yesterday morning, 0600. Nothing amiss at the time." He paused when another agent handed him a piece of paper. Jenny could tell from his body language that the news was not good. "Fitzgerald found her phone and car in a remote area of the park." His voice caught, he cleared his throat and swallowed hard, "Andrea was inside the trunk—single gunshot wound to the head. No sign of Henry. Boss…" he fumbled, "Jenny, I--"

"Get in touch with Andrea's father, Marcus. I wish I could be there to give him the news and offer condolences, but … " Her voice trailed off and Marcus nodded, indicating that he understood. _Andrea was dead._ She rubbed the area between her eyes—willing the dull ache that hid there to abate. _Shot while protecting her son. Another agent dead because she had refused to pull the trigger herself years before._ She shoved away the idea that Henry had witnessed the shooting—praying that he had been spared that particular horror. "Marcus, we just received intel that Henry is here—in D.C—as of 1800 yesterday Eastern Standard. He was alive and with two suspects. We're running all leads on this end. I trust you to handle it there."

"Yes, Ma'am. Won't let you down, Boss"

She smiled, not because she felt like it, but because she could feel the young agent needed the reassurance, "You haven't yet. I'm counting on you". The transmission ended.

The ringing of the cell phone raised the tension level another notch. "Yeah. Gibbs" She saw him tilt his head, listening "Okay. Call as soon as you get there"

"What? Did they find him?"

"Ziva has the name of the cab driver. She and DiNozzo are bringing him in to---"

"No! We---I should go with them." His hand on her arm stopped her.

"Jen. It's the guy's day off. He's not answering his phone. They have to pick him up. If they get anything from him, they'll call us. You need to take a minute to breathe."

Normally an interruption from the Director would have been unwelcome. Under the circumstances, Vance provided a momentary reprieve that allowed her to bite back the sharp retort to Gibbs suggestion.

"Anything you need" Vance said firmly, "Just ask. You've got the support of the whole agency on this one. I have kids myself, Jenny. Gibbs is right-- take a minute"

Resigned, she forced herself into one of the chairs, and closed her eyes. When she opened them a moment later, it was to see the last of the techs slipping out of the door. Vance stepped out and closed it firmly behind him. They were alone.

"I don't need to breathe, Jethro. I need to find my son! Don't you understand that?"

"I do. I also get that in the last hour, you've been told Decker is dead, you've lost an agent, and your son has been kidnapped. Hell, Jen! Let yourself be human"

"Now I'm not human?" The edge in her voice would have been enough to stop the average person from pressing. Gibbs had never been average—and he knew her too well to let her hide behind a cool façade.

"You keep too much bottled up inside and you'll go crazy. Trust me—I've been there".

"Have you?" The pained expression in his eyes confused her. "Don't worry, Jethro" came the embittered response, "I'm not going to fall apart"

"No, you wouldn't let yourself do that. Doesn't mean you don't need or want to" He sat in the chair next to her. "Tell me about him, Jen"

The small huff was barely audible. _She had imagined this conversation a thousand times in her head, but she never thought it would be quite like this _"What do you want me to tell you? He's a great kid. He's smart and funny. He loves hot chocolate and he hates peas. He prefers American baseball to cricket. Henry's my life---the best part of it anyway." She knew she sounded a little wistful—her mind was filled with the image of a laughing boy with auburn hair, freckles, and mischief in his eyes.

The inherent question hovered—the proverbial elephant in the room. He tried hard to aim for an air of detachment, but doubted he was successful. "His father?"

"Does it really matter?"

The look he gave her clearly indicated that it did.

She was physically too close to him to answer that question. She stood, and walked a few feet toward the faintly illuminated screens that lined MTAC. She turned slightly—not quite able to face him, but not wanting her words to be thrown coldly over her shoulder either. "His father was engaged to marry someone else by the time I found out I was pregnant." She shrugged her shoulders, "It seemed pretty clear that he … well, I decided that I had to do what was best for me and the baby"

"Pretty big decision to make alone"

"I had to do it"

"Are you sure about that, Jen?"

"I was sure then" She chanced a look at him; uncertain of what she expected to see. The firm line of his jaw told her volumes. "You were never good at subtlety, Jethro. If you have a question, ask it"

"Is he mine?"

The ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Do you remember how we spent our last full day in Paris?" _She hadn't forgotten—and was certain that he hadn't either._ "Henry was born in December." She hesitated, as if deciding how to phrase it, "He's _ours,_ Jethro."

He didn't realize that he was holding his breath, until it came out in one rush. _He felt—angry?_ _Happy? Sad?_ He finally settled on allowing it to be a combination of all three. He rubbed the back of his head. "Why didn't you say anything?" The words held a bit of justified indignation.

"What would you have done? Left Stephanie at the altar?" Her voice wavered, "We never talked about children. I don't know if you even wanted any. You had already asked me to stay---I left Paris without giving you my answer. It would have been "No". We loved each other, Jethro, but we wanted different things. A baby couldn't –shouldn't—have changed that. You moved on. I needed to do the same."

While inwardly he cursed, it was directed at him as much as it was at her. _Children? He had never told her about Kelly… or Shannon_. How could he damn her for keeping such a secret when he had kept a few of his own? He had dated Stephanie briefly after his divorce from Diane. When he came back to D.C. without Jenny, it was Stephanie who had reached out---and he used her to fill the void. They were married and on their way to Moscow four months later.

"Were you ever gonna tell me?" His voice was low and raw.

"I don't know. Probably not. Maybe." She walked back to him and sat down—keeping an open chair between them. "You can be angry with me. God knows that I won't blame you. Don't be angry with him, Jethro. Henry only knows that his father had to go away before he was born. He accepts that explanation."

The tone from his cell phone sounded abnormally loud in the enclosed room. He listened and then snapped it shut. "C'mon. Abby's got something"

He stood, and slowly offered her his hand. He sensed and understood her hesitation—he had more than a few reservations of his own— but he was thankful when she took it and allowed him to help her to her feet. With his other hand he gently lifted her chin and forced her stormy eyes to meet his cool blue ones.

"I'll find him, Jen"

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**To Be Continued…**


	12. Chapter 12

**Home Is Where the Heart Is**

**Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended.

**Authors Note**: Delay in update secondary to … well, life! On a brighter note, I think I passed Nursing Research! Thanks for the well wishes. Reviews are always appreciated! Thanks, E! :)

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**Chapter 12 **

While it was true that Abby had never disappointed him, the visit to her lab was not satisfying. The telephone carrier had confirmed the photo originated from London, but had been bounced from a burn phone into Jen's almost 48 hours after it was taken. The whole thing was—as Abby termed it—more than a little _hinky_. He hoped that Ziva and Tony were having better luck.

They had the taxi driver in an interrogation room thirty minutes later.

Gibbs knew that Jen was having a hard time staying behind the glass, but he had insisted and she had begrudgingly agreed to observe.

"Sure," the driver replied, "I remember 'em. Foreign lady was a looker, but she ordered me around like she was the damn tsarina of Russia. The kid looked a little sick. The lady told me that he wasn't feeling so good after the plane ride."

Gibbs slid a photo from the airport security footage across the table. "This them?"

"Yeah. Big guy didn't say much."

"Where'd you take 'em?"

"Dropped them at the Wyndsor. 1800 block of 16th Street"

{ { { { { { { {

She had discovered years ago how to separate her private and professional life. True, she had been Gibb's probie, but Jethro didn't really teach—she watched and she learned. A good agent grew a special switch on the inside: like a light switch turning things on and off. There were times during a mission that you had to turn personal thoughts off—if you didn't, you were distracted. And in this business, distracted equaled dead.

It was that control that kept her from crumbling now. She couldn't explain how—it just did. If she let herself think about Henry, she would be useless---that was not an option. To someone who did not know her well, it looked as if she were merely gazing out the window. But her back was too straight; her hand drifted, softly touching the Sig on her hip. She was listening. And waiting.

"I checked out the area, Boss. Wyndsor Hotel, 1842 16th Street. Right in the middle of the residential area of DuPont Circle. Easy access to metro stations"

"Layout, McGee"

"Four stories. Front and rear entry. Limited parking in rear, no garage. Service delivery door on North side. Fire escape runs down North side as well. No elevator. Clerk confirms they have a Drantyev family~ a man, woman and their son~ staying in Room 404"

"Gear up"

His blue eyes locked with the green ones across the room. "C'mon. You're riding with me".

} } } } } } } }

"Bespoleznyy!" came the muttered phrase, "Neudacha"

Viggo looked up from the chair in the corner, "You are speaking of me?"

Natasha's eyes narrowed, "If you had been able to get information from Decker, I would not be standing here thinking of failure"

"You have boy" He shrugged his massive shoulders. It made no difference to him that more had to be done to retrieve the information his employer sought. _As long as she paid him well, he would do whatever she asked. Kill whoever she instructed. _

"You have made good point" She thought of her own son. Matvei was enjoying his childhood innocence safely ensconced in boarding school in Vienna. The decision to take Shepard's son had not been a difficult one. She had never been closer to catching the man who had killed Anatoly. Soon he would be dead. Then, and only then, would she rest in peace.

"Boy will be all that you need"

The smile was forced to her pale lips, "Yes, you are right" His gun felt strange in her hand—the silencer adding to its weight. "The boy is all that I need".

{ { { { { { { {

The plan was to secure the hallway. McGee covered the main stairwell; Ziva covered the south hall, while Tony and Jen flanked Gibbs.

He allowed one glance at his former partner before approaching the door. She was calm. _Almost too calm_.

"Sir? Maintenance. We need to access your room" Tony knocked loudly on the door.

No voices. No sound of any movement.

Gibbs nodded once to Tony. One, two, three. The door was kicked open---the two agents spilling into the room.

"NCIS! Don't move!"

The man was eerily compliant; his chair sat facing the window, his back towards the open door.

Tony approached cautiously. He came around the side of Viggo before lowering his weapon.

"He couldn't move if he wanted to, Boss"

He heard Jen's voice shout "Clear" from the adjoining bathroom. He lowered his weapon and stood beside his senior field agent.

Viggo Drantyev was dead.

{ { { { { { { {

"Not quite the place I expected us to meet" Ducky placed his medical bag beside the body still seated in the chair. Ziva was gloved and going through a duffle bag while Tony was taking photographs.

"No sign of…"

Gibbs quickly and firmly shook his head "No". The ME turned and looked at the woman seated on the end of one of the two beds. In her hand she held a child's sweatshirt; the expression on her face was almost as blank as that of the corpse.

"T-O-D, Duck"

"Yes, Jethro" He pulled the liver probe from his kit and inserted it into the body. "I see you why you have no question as to his cause of death" He indicated the circular wound at Viggo's right temple.

"Yeah, we figured that one out. She used a silencer. Need you to tell us when" He, too, let his eyes wander towards the bed where Jenny sat holding Henry's sweatshirt. The anger he felt towards her had faded—replaced by the desire to comfort. He knew only one thing would suffice. And, other than the sweatshirt, there was no trace of him anywhere.

Ducky pulled the probe from the body. "I can tell you that he has been dead no more than two hours"

"Must have just missed 'em" Tony added.

"Which also means we may have caught them if we had left the minute we got the location from the cab driver" The voice was low, but the anger was evident. Tony looked down. Ziva paused to glance at Jenny before continuing to go through the pockets of Viggo's clothes.

"That's a big maybe, Jen. It wasn't safe to fly in here blind. Especially when there is a child involved"

The look he received clearly indicated what she thought of his response "He has a name, Jethro. It's Henry. And he's _my_ child!" Jenny snapped. When she began to swear, he caught her hand and pulled her through the door into the bathroom, pushing her towards the toilet.

"Jethro---"

"I realize that you've had him for nine years and I've only known about him for three hours, but he's _my _son, too, Jen. I want to find him just as badly as you do" The words were not unkind, and they did soothe her slightly.

"Boss?" McGee stood in the doorway; his neck and ears were pink and his expression revealed that he had heard more of their conversation than any of them had would have liked.

Gibbs strode out of the bathroom. McGee followed closely –almost running into him when his boss abruptly stopped, "What?!"

"The manager is in the hallway. He's pretty upset about a dead body and wants to talk to the man in charge"

The Indian man at the door was noticeably agitated and Ziva's attempts to placate him were not having the desired effect. Gibbs advanced on the man—a perfect target to allow him to take out a bit of his frustration. McGee cringed when the argument carried from the hallway. Small wonder that Gibbs wasn't known for his people skills.

Five minutes later, he returned to the room. Calmer, he noticed Jenny was standing with Ziva next to the open duffle bag. Tony and Palmer could be heard bumping the gurney down the first of four flights of stairs—Ducky's stern admonition to "be careful" floated through the door.

The ringing of a cell phone drew his attention back to Jen.

"Shepard" She listened, briefly meeting his eyes. Noting the question there, she mouthed the word "Vance" and moved out the door to continue her conversation.

"Anything in his clothes?"

"Nothing of value, Gibbs" Ziva indicated a few receipts and a couple of American dollars, "I can see no clue as to why she killed him. I assumed that he was hired specifically to do her killing for her. I do not understand his death."

"Cleaning house, Ziva. When he didn't get the information from Decker, he became a liability. He couldn't get her what she wanted, so she's using someone else"

"Henry"

He looked at her closely, wanting to evaluate her response "You knew about Henry?" The inflection of his voice made it clear he was asking if she knew about more than just his existence.

"For many years I have known him" she began carefully, "At some point, I have found out things that I think I should not know. But then, I also knew things about you that I believe Jenny does not yet know."

His stern glare told her what she suspected. _He had never told Jenny about his first wife and his daughter_. _It was not her place to tell secrets. She could only hope that Gibbs would tell Jenny before she heard it from someone else._

She raised her eyebrows as if to emphasize her point before McGee arrived to help her with Viggo's personal items.

He acknowledged her statement with a small nod. His cell phone rang. "Gibbs"

"I just got word from dispatch about the dead body at the Wyndsor. I take it you _were _going to call and inform me at some point?" The Director was not a happy man.

"Thought you were getting' the sit rep from Jenny, Leon"

"Jenny? I haven't spoken to her since I left MTAC this morning. I was told she was with you"

He literally ran to the door and searched the hall.

No Jen.

"Gibbs?" He heard Leon's voice call to him through the phone.

"I'll call you back" was muttered before he hung up.

"DiNozzo!"

"Yeah, Boss?" Tony stopped at the beginning of the second floor. "Jen down there?"

"No. Haven't seen her"

He turned to find Tim and Ziva watching him from the door.

"Ziva! Check the fire escape. Find her. Now."

He looked out the windows that faced the front of the hotel. Two taxis passed by on 16th Street, and a third cab was pulling away from the front of the building. No sign of her.

He caught Ziva coming back in from the fire escape "Nothing, Gibbs"

_If she hadn't gotten a call from the Director, who had called her? Why would she leave without telling him_? _Damn! It suddenly hit him hard: Who and the why. _

His finger hit speed dial # 3. "Abs! Need you to run a trace on the GPS chip for Agent Shepard's phone"

"Okay" Fingers flew over the keyboard, "Is there a problem? Duh! Of course there is. You wouldn't be calling me if there wasn't. Um.. .Gibbs? I have a problem, too. GPS on the phone has been deactivated." She pulled the phone away from her ear when he swore.

"What _can_ you tell me, Abs?" He growled.

"Last call was an incoming one seven minutes ago" She caught her breath at the familiar number. "Gibbs, it came from the same number that was used to bounce the photo from London. I'll keep trying, but right now I can't tell you where she is"

He flipped his phone shut. He wasn't sure when Jen was either ~~ but he had a pretty good idea.

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To Be Continued….


	13. Chapter 13

**Home Is Where the Heart Is**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own 'em. Things would be _**so **_**much simpler** if I did (And I ~ along with a few other people ~ would be much happier with Season 6).

**Authors Note**: Took a much needed break from my life! It's funny how a trip can renew both mind and spirit (If you get the chance: go see "Blithe Spirit" on Broadway with Angela Lansbury and Rupert Everett ~~ most excellent!) To my charming hostess ~ you are a special treasure. Thanks for everything.

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**Chapter 13**

Choices. She had made many over the years that she had not been proud of. In a split second, she was being forced to make another one. She had already cost two agents their lives~~ she wasn't willing to risk any more. Her heart twisted the moment she heard the hesitant word from her cell.

"Mom?"

Her hand gripped the phone and her eyes cut to Gibbs. The debate was settled in her mind. She mouthed the word "Vance" and moved quickly through the door. This was her mess ~~ she had been responsible for making it and it was her job to fix it.

"Henry! Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I am. She says that you have to meet her. That you have what--"

She heard a slight scuffling and then what sounded like the phone hitting the ground. Her breath caught and she stopped on the service stairwell. "Henry?!"

"The boy is right. You have what I want"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Svetlana"

The laugh was forced and bitter, "I have not been her for many years. You know who I want. Bring me your Mr. Oshimyda and I will give you the boy. A simple exchange"

Jenny stepped outside and into the cover of a large hedge, "Not so simple anymore ~~ you had Decker killed and then you killed one of my agents. All I want is Henry."

"All I want is the one who killed Anatoly. Even trade. You have three hours"

"Not enough time"

"It is all the time I will give."

"Okay. You'll have to meet me~ a place where he will not suspect. He won't come voluntarily. I'll figure out a way to bring him. Promise me that you won't hurt my son"

"Three hours, Agent Shepard. No promises"

"Meet me at this address in Georgetown" She recited the familiar line. " I will give you what you want"

{ { { { { { {

Her cell rang again minutes after the call. _Gibbs._ It was a conscious decision not to answer. Disrupting the GSP chip had been a simple matter and~~ in her mind ~~a vital one. Decker was dead. So was Andrea. She was not willing to risk Jethro or one of his team. She knew what Svetlana wanted; she had wanted the same thing for many years after the untimely death of her father. Peace. Sadly, the knowledge that the man she believed responsible for her father's death had met a gristly end had, in the long run, proved to be of little comfort.

She waited in the shadows. The dark sky that accompanied the heavily falling rain aided the dim light in her study. She had drawn the blinds to help ensure what little advantage the faint light afforded her.

She sensed the movement in the hallway and she froze. The click of the gun had her lifting her gaze to meet the pale eyes of her visitor.

"You are not who I expected." She heard the surprise in the Russian's statement.

"Where is my son?"

"Nearby. Is he here?"

"What happened, Svetlana? Why did you wait all of these years?"

"It took me until now to find you. I want the one who killed Anatoly"

"Here I am" She swallowed hard. Taking this line was risky, but she had to try, "I am responsible. Do you think killing me will make your life any better?"

"What does your son mean to you?"

"Everything"

"As was Anatoly. He was my everything."

Jenny had abandoned her government issued Sig in favor of her personal Glock. She felt the familiar weight pressing into her back ~~ giving her courage.

"Causing another death won't give you back the father of your son."

"It will be a start. You are not the one who shot him. Call him and tell him to meet us. Now." The blonde advanced into the room. Jenny could only hope that Henry was somewhere safe ~~ and hopefully out of the range of gunfire.

She realized she was pushing her luck, but she had to try. "If I refuse?"

"Then you _**all **_will die"

"Don't think that's gonna happen" Jethro stepped out of the darkness behind Svetlana.

Jenny saw the woman hesitate—struggling to stay the course or turn and face the man who had killed Anatoly. Jen decided that she wouldn't give her the option to get revenge. It had to end. Now. This time she would not hesitate.

In a split second, she pulled her gun and the sound of gunshots resonated in the study. She felt the sting as a bullet hit her shoulder. She fought to stay on her feet – dropping to her knees when she saw Svetlana fall. She felt her mouth fill with blood and spat—trying to clear her airway. The pain in her right shoulder compounded her inability to draw a breath and the combination made her head swim. She heard Jethro shout her name ~ felt his hand apply pressure in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood from her wound. Then Jenny collapsed ~~ and felt nothing.

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To Be Continued...


	14. Chapter 14

**Home is Where the Heart Is**

**Disclaimer: **Nope, I don't. (I'd hire a few of you to be on my writing staff if I did)

**Author's Note**: Please be assured that I "Gibbs slapped" my muse for hurting Jen! Thank you for the reviews! :)

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**Chapter 14**

Blood. This time is _**was**_ hers.

"Boss?" He heard Tony's voice behind him.

"Call a damn ambulance, DiNozzo. She's been shot!" He registered that Tony was following his orders, but his focus was on the woman in his arms. "C'mon, Jen. Hold on. Ambulance is on its way" He was glad to see that although her breathing was shallow, she was doing it on her own. The bleeding, too, had slowed—but not stopped.

He heard footsteps scrambling on the tile in the foyer.

"Mom!"

He turned just in time to see Ziva successfully hold the boy back. She whispered something softly in his ear and he stopped struggling. He saw that they both noticed Svetlana's body on the floor. "Gibbs?" He heard the concern in her voice.

"Jen's gonna be okay. The ambulance is on its way. She's lost some blood so she passed out" His words were surprisingly calm and he knew it was more for the boy's benefit than anyone else's. He let his eyes take in the sight of his son. _His son—their son. _He searched the eyes that were the same color blue as his own. "You okay?"

Henry stared at the man holding his mother. He wanted to speak, but ended up nodding instead. His eyes were filled with tears, but he did not want anyone to see them fall—especially this man. He heard Ziva whisper again, softly in Hebrew. He buried his head in her chest and allowed her to hold him tightly.

Gibbs felt Jenny stir. A small moan. Ziva released Henry and he was kneeling at her side. "Mom?"

She forced her eyes open at the sound—_Henry!_ His hand slipped into hers and she was able to squeeze it slightly. _He was okay_. She closed her eyes again and drifted.

{{{{{{{{

Ducky found him pacing in front of the double doors that lead to the surgical suite of the Trauma center. "I left Mr. Palmer to deal with the body. I saw Ziva and Henry in the main waiting area. How is she?"

"They won't let me in. They wouldn't let me stay with her. Something about a bullet hitting her lung" Out of habit, he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "She only came to for just a minute and then she was out again"

"Did she see Henry?"

"Yeah, she did. I'm glad that she did"

The door flew open and both men turned expectantly to look at the woman in surgical scrubs, "I'm Dr. Hollinger. The bullet went clean thorough without hitting any major blood vessels. It did, however, puncture her lung and caused it to collapse. She tolerated the surgery well. She'll be in recovery for at least the next two hours so we can keep a close eye on her vital signs and oxygenation. The chest tube will remain in place while the lung heals. ICU for at least 48 hours. If she does well, we'll move her to a regular room after that. She was lucky."

Gibbs waited until the doctor had moved away before muttering, "Luck had nothing to do with it"

"She is in good hands, Jethro. I do believe that there is one lad who will be very happy to hear the news. Ziva found him?"

"Locked in the back of a cargo van a block away. He has a tape burn around his wrist, but seems to be okay."

"I'll check him over—just to be sure." He looked thoughtfully at Jethro. "What are you going to do now?"

"Doctor said Jen would be out of it for a while longer so I---"

"I wasn't speaking of Jennifer and I'm sure you know that." He paused, "He has the look of you, Jethro. The hair is his mothers, but the eyes are a giveaway. Does the boy know who you are?"

"I don't think so" he managed, "I didn't even know about him until today."

"And now that you do?"

"I don't know, Duck" _It wasn't a good answer, but it was the truth_.

{{{{{{{{

Gibbs didn't need to be a trained investigator to see that Henry wasn't thrilled with the arrangements. He was reluctant to leave Ziva, but ultimately the argument that Gibbs lived so much closer to the hospital won him over. Gibbs walked slowly around his basement, aware of the boy sitting on the stairs, but wanting to give him space.

"Why do you build a boat in your basement?"

"Hobby"

"How do you get her out of the basement?"

"Secret. I'd tell you, but I only tell people who help me work on her." He grinned, "Hey, how'd you know a boat is a "she"?

Henry snorted, "My Mom works for the Navy. Kind of hard not to know that one"

"Well, I never could get your Mom to call my boat a "she".

He could feel the look from the stairs. "You must have known my Mom for a long time"

"Yep" He watched as Henry made his way down the stairs and laid a careful hand on the boat. He handed the boy a block of sandpaper, "Here" he licked his finger and ran it along the wood, revealing the grain. "Trick is to sand with the grain" He watched, nodding in satisfaction. The boy was a fast learner. _Something else he got from Jen._

"Got any kids, Agent Gibbs?"

He almost choked on his coffee, "Why do you ask that?"

Henry shrugged, "Just wonderin', I guess. This shirt is the right size for a kid"

"I was married before. I had a daughter, but she… well, she died" He stopped sanding and looked thoughtfully at the boy. "I don't tell too many people about that." He pointed at the name painted on the boat, "I named the boat after her"

"Kelly. That's kind of neat, having a boat named after you, I mean"

They sanded in companionable silence for the next twenty minutes. Gibbs looked up and caught Henry stifling a yawn. He gently opened his hand and the boy laid the sander in it. "Enough for tonight. Time for bed"

It wasn't until Gibbs went to turn out the light that Henry spoke again, "Agent Gibbs?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about your daughter. I think she'd really like the boat"

"Good night, Henry."

"My Mom's gonna be okay, right?" That time, Gibbs did hear the small catch in the boy's voice. He came into the room and sat on the end of the bed.

"Your Mom is a strong woman. The doctor said that she's gonna be fine and I believe her. You should, too. I know it's been a rough couple of days"

"Ziva said that Andrea died" The statement was matter of fact, but Henry didn't hide the lone tear that slid down his cheek.

Jethro couldn't stop the hand that reached out and tousled the boy's dark red hair. "Not your fault. I know that you guys were good friends"

"G'nite, Gibbs" He rolled on his side a bit too quickly in an effort to hide further emotion.

Jethro turned and flipped the light switch, dousing the room in darkness. "Want me to leave the door cracked a little?"

"Uh, huh"

He paused in the hall outside the door. He could hear the faint sniffles, but knew it was best to let the boy work this one out on his own. He slid down the wall and sat in the hall outside of Henry's door. _A son. He had a son—with Jenny. He had never considered having children with any of his ex-wives. It didn't seem fitting somehow. The fact that he had a child with Jenny felt right—and that thought made him smile. _

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To Be Continued….


	15. Chapter 15

**Home is Where the Heart Is**

**Disclaimer**: Standard "No" (Depressing, but true)

**Authors Note**: I appreciate you sticking with the story!

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**Chapter 15**

Autopsy was blessedly quiet and it had one advantage over the elevator: Ducky had bourbon. Gibbs had a feeling that he might need it. The few days since the shooting had been long ones. The hospital had called with good news about Jenny's recovery. Ziva gone with Henry to see his mother ---three times. Gibbs, however, had not been to see her at all. Ducky had gone today in his stead—and for a reason than just to inquire as to her general state of health. Days before, Gibbs and the Director had taken Henry into a conference room and talked quietly about the boy's ordeal. He thought Jen would appreciate hearing the details from a friend-- at least that sounded like a plausible excuse for the reason he sent Ducky.

"I need you to tell me what happened" Vance requested.

In a steady voice, the boy did just that: Andrea had stopped to help a woman who stood beside a stranded vehicle in the park. It was the last time he saw her. The details were a little fuzzy after that—so much so that he had agreed with Vance that the child had been drugged.

Abby was engaged in a discussion with McGee when Gibbs went into her lab—hoping the Goth would keep his young shadow occupied for a while. If Abby's eyes held a little more sparkle and her smile was a bit too wide, he chose to ignore it. He growled softly when Abby whispered "Okay, Poppa Bear" at his request to keep Henry in the lab with her. He had no doubt that McGee had shared the overheard parts of his conversation with Jenny in the bathroom at the Wyndsor. Henry's paternity was hardly a state secret, but he did not want it to be the hot scuttlebutt around NCIS.

But that wasn't what had driven him to Ducky's realm of solitude.

The swoosh of the autopsy doors made him lift his head.

"I thought I might find you here" The Scotsman sighed and hung his overcoat and hat on the stand. He moved to the cabinet and pulled out two tumblers and poured a measure of bourbon into one before filling the other with his own cognac.

"How is she?"

"Healing nicely and thankful that Henry is safe" He hesitated only slightly, "She was a little confused, Jethro. While I may wax on about parts of my life, _this particular_ story should have come from you."

Gibbs eyed the manila file folder that Ducky had brought back from his hospital visit. He should've told Jen himself about Shannon and Kelly. Years ago. The tale needed a delicate touch because at the center of the secret was now a living child that neither adult wanted to see harmed. Ducky seemed the safest choice to send as a missionary.

"Do you honestly think if I had told her about Shannon in Paris it would have made a difference?"

"That, my friend, is a question only Jennifer can answer. The story cannot undo what is past, but it can, perhaps, open the door to a different future. Talk to her, Jethro"

He drank the bourbon quickly—hoping his friend would attribute the slight watering of his eyes to the burn of the alcohol instead of the flush of emotion from the ME's counsel. The doctor chose wisely not to comment.

"Thanks, Duck"

{ { { { { { { {

He watched the conversation from the glass window outside of Jen's room. Ziva was laughing at an animated Henry, who was-- from Jenny's reaction--the best medicine in the world. It was good to see her up and in a regular room—laughing with their son, even though he guessed that by the way she was holding her side it caused her pain to do so.

Her eyes caught his. She allowed him to read the conflicting emotion in them before she tilted her head—a clear invitation to join them.

"Jethro"

"Gibbs" Ziva gave him a small smile.

Henry stopped telling his story and waited as the man walked in from the door. His blue eyes went from the agent, to his mother, and back to the agent again. "Hey, Gibbs"

"I hear you've been an entertaining host, Jethro"

Gibbs smiled at the boy. "He's made it pretty easy"

"Tony brought pizza by last night. Tim lets me play on his computer when I'm at the Navy yard. Abby is too cool, Mom. She scanned my prints into the system—totally sweet system"

"That reminds me", Ziva looked at her watch, "We need to leave now if we are going to meet Abby in time for dinner. Real food in a real house"

"Hey, it's not my fault that the kid likes take out" He lifted a bag that contained just that. "I brought dinner"

Henry made it three steps to the door before he got caught.

"Hey, Sport. You forgot something"

The eye roll was such a perfect imitation of Gibbs that Jenny laughed, "Kiss, please" Henry placed a quick kiss on her cheek . "I love you" His response was to smile and bound out the door behind Ziva.

"Well, he has one of your 'looks' down already. I won't panic unless he starts building a boat in our basement"

He eyed the spot Henry had vacated on her bed, but knew it wouldn't be right to be that close to her. _No matter how much he wanted to be_. "He's a great kid, Jen. You're doing a good job"

She smiled at that, "He makes it easy—most of the time" She used the bed controls to sit almost upright. She looked at the bag, "You brought me dinner? "

"Hospital food sucks"

"Tell me about it" Her eyes widened as he began to unpack. "Is that Steak au Poivre?"

He smiled as he began to unload the take out and arrange it on her over bed table. "You know" she added dryly, "the last time we had Steak au Poivre six people died"

"Not our people" His mouth quirked at the memory from a mission long ago.

They started to unwrap the silverware in an effort to buy time before addressing the inevitable.

"I'm glad you've spent some time with Henry."

"I've missed out on a lot"

"You did" She nodded, "I'm sorry. If I had known… about… well, I would have told you" After finding out about his loss, she never would have kept their child from him. Granted, it hurt that he hadn't trusted her with that secret. But she had held back, too. It even stung a bit that he had sent Ducky on that particular mission instead of doing it himself. She understood it-- this was Gibbs after all--but she hadn't liked it. This wasn't, however, the time for recriminations. On either side. The past could not be undone.

"I should have said something"

"Yes. You should have. But," she smiled sadly, "I guess we both thought we were doing what was best".

He cleared his throat, and stared out the window at the darkening sky. _What was best? At the time, he thought fighting for his country was best. And had lost his family in the process. Best was not how he would have described it. _

She opted for a lighter tone in an effort to draw him back to the present. "The doctor said that I can be discharged tomorrow. Noemi has agreed to stay with us at the townhouse"

"Then what?"

She shrugged, "We go back home, Jethro"

"I thought this was home"

She looked at him closely, but his expression was shielded. "Once upon a time, I did, too"

"Something happen to change that?"

"Life happened. I know that we should talk about Henry. If you want to see him—"

"_If,_ Jen?" His tone was irritated.

"—I would like that very much" she continued. "We can work something out"

"And how do you plan on explaining to him why he needs to spend time with 'Agent Gibbs'? Hell, Jenny. The kid doesn't even know _who _I am!"

She started to answer, but a voice stopped her.

"Yes, I do"

They both turned to gape at the boy standing in the doorway. Henry's blue eyes were stormy, but his voice was low and determined. "You're my father".

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TBC…


	16. Chapter 16

**Home Is Where the Heart Is**

**Disclaimer: **All main characters belong to DBP/CBS/Paramount. Except Henry… he's mine! :)

**A/N**: Another chapter… a promised "Good Morning!" gift for a friend Reviews are always appreciated!

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**Chapter 16**

"We go back home, Jethro"

Henry could feel his heart pounding fast, but he crept quietly to the door. This was one of those important 'adults only' conversations. He could tell from the expression on his mother's face. She always got that little crinkle in her forehead and did that funny thing with her eyebrow when she was being very serious about something. He knew that he probably shouldn't be standing there listening, but he seemed rooted to the spot.

"And how do you plan on explaining to him why he needs to spend time with 'Agent Gibbs'? Hell, Jenny. The kid doesn't even know _who _I am!"

_That did it._ The sound of own his voice surprised him almost as much as it surprised the adults in the room.

"Yes, I do" He fisted his hands at his sides and took a deep breath for courage. _Oh, boy._

Both adults turned and looked at him; mouths open. His Mom had never lied to him before… not really. And he didn't see much need in hiding what he knew to be the truth: "You're my father"

When they continued to stare, Henry shifted his feet, "Don't try and tell me any different 'cause I know it's true" He lifted his head, his eyes almost daring one of them to disagree with him. He risked a glance at Gibbs. He hadn't expected to like him—but he did. He found himself wondering what it would be like to have him around all of the time_. Maybe they could play ball. They definitely could work on his boat. He wondered what it would be like to have a Dad—someone to listen when you talked about guy stuff. Someone who could make his mother smile. _

Gibbs hadn't spoken a word. He had to admit that—though taken aback -- he felt more than a little proud. The kid had guts. _That, _he thought_, he gets from me. _

Jenny found her voice first. "I thought you left with Ziva"

Henry picked up the backpack inside of her door. "I forgot my backpack"

She had nine years of practice reading this particular face. She had seen that look before and knew it was best to tread carefully._ What had she missed? Where had she slipped? _She had worked hard over the years to make up for Henry's lack of a father, but evidently Jethro had made quite the impression in a short amount of time.

"How did you know?"

"You left your pictures out on the desk" He shrugged, and slightly blushed, "Other than Grandpa, he's the only other guy you've kept a picture of and … well, I guessed" Jenny knew immediately which picture he was referring to. Serbia, 1998. _A week she would never forget. _She thought she had lost that picture. "You always said that I had the same eyes as my dad" Henry pointed. "He matches"

Jenny tried to ignore the slight smirk that she caught on Jethro's face.

"Henry?" Ziva now stood in the doorway, pausing a moment to take in the strained silence. Whatever she had missed had been important. Henry looked up at her and shouldered his backpack. "I guess I'd better go now"

Jenny cleared her throat, "We'll talk about it later. It'll be okay" she added gently. Agent Gibbs smiled and nodded his head.

Inwardly, Henry sighed. _Later. _

{ { { { { { {

"We've always done okay, haven't we?" She hoped the earnestness in her voice was getting through to him.

"I guess so"

"How long have you known?"

Henry bit his lower lip and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "Since last year. I kept the picture, but I was just lookin' at it… I'll give it back"

Jenny laid a gentle hand on her son's shoulder, "Hey, Sport. You're not in trouble, you know. You can keep the picture. It just surprised me that you knew and didn't say anything. I think you surprised Jeth—your father, too"

His lips twitched a little. "You're not mad?"

She pulled him down on the bed and he allowed himself the luxury of cuddling into her side with his head resting on the pillow next to her. "I was afraid _you_ would be mad at me. I should have told you, but I never thought you'd meet him… not like this anyway"

"Didn't he want us?" The simple question cut her to the core. Sometimes children could sum up situations so clearly—still innocent of the complicated world in which adults chose to function.

"I don't know, Henry. But I've never asked him before."

"Are you gonna?"

Now it was Jenny's turn to nip her bottom lip and consider her options. "I think I should—don't you?"

The blue eyes were reflective when he quietly answered, "Yeah, but what if he says no?"

She pressed her lips to his soft russet hair, "He won't. I'll take care of it_" The 'how' part wasn't one she had worked out yet. _

{ { { { { { {

The sawdust clouded the basement and left a light film on the body of the man working the wood like his life depended on it. In a way, it did. His boat had been an anchor to what was real---not what he hoped would become a reality. God save him from stubborn women!

Since the hospital confession, he resolved to do his damnedest to prove that Henry was right—they did "match". And he wasn't only talking about him and his son. Jen was his match. He had thought there was only one for him and that he had lost her after Shannon died. He was wrong. Through some twist of fate, he had been sent another who not only challenged but complemented him. She gave him back a balance. And a focus: their son. While hesitant at first, Henry had slowly come around. He smiled when he thought of them tossing the baseball in the backyard. The kid had a hell of a right arm.

"Just gonna sit and watch? I could use the help" He looked up at the boy who sat silently at the top of the stairs.

Henry started down the steps. "I don't mind helping. Mom kind of kicked me out of the house"

They sanded for a while before Gibbs tested the waters. "She kicked you out?"

"Uh, huh. She said I could find somewhere better to mope. There's _nothing _to do at Mom's house" his voice echoed the familiar lament of many active nine year old boys, "Mitch dropped me off on his way to Michelle's. You don't mind, do ya?"

The leveled gaze was a clear '_do you really have to ask that question'_, but he grinned at his son. "You don't ever need to ask, Henry. Doors always open—especially for you."

"What about Mom?'

"Her, too. Of course, last time I saw her she was pretty grumpy. She never could sit still for very long. I don't think she likes being stuck at home."

"We could hide in your basement until she cools off"

"Knowing your Mom, that might take a while"

"Do you think you could go over there and fix it? " Henry gestured around at the tools. "I bet you could fix pretty much anything if you wanted to"

Gibbs stopped sanding. "It's easy to fix things. Not so easy to fix people"

"You could try and take her on a date. Girls like flowers and going to a restaurant for fancy food and stuff"

When Gibbs looked at him, he blushed, "At least that's what Tony says"

He made himself a mental note to head slap DiNozzo the next time he saw him. _Then again, maybe a date with Jenny wasn't such a bad idea. She had been home from the hospital since Tuesday---and with the exception of one telephone conversation about him taking Henry to a ball game, she had been avoiding him like the plague. _

He pulled out his cell phone, "Hey, Abs. I need a favor"

__________

To Be Continued. ..


	17. Chapter 17

**Home Is Where the Heart Is**

**Disclaimer: **I don't … Oh, what fun I could have if I **did**!

**Author's Note: **I appreciate all who have followed the story. Thank you for the reviews / PM's! :D It's been fun.

________________

**Chapter 17**

The thought of sharing a meal with Jethro that hadn't come from polystyrene container was intriguing enough for her to agree when he called. She hadn't been avoiding him—not exactly. She was busy trying to hold her team together and deal with the aftermath of had happened in London. The call to Andrea's father had been particularly difficult. Physically, she was still recovering from her gunshot wound and emotionally, she was exhausted. She rationalized that she hadn't had time for the talk she knew needed to take place.

Jenny studied her reflection in the mirror. It wasn't as if this were a 'real' date—she was fairly certain that she and Jethro were beyond the dating stage in their relationship. If the type of relationship they currently shared had a name, she admittedly was clueless as to what it would be. She had worn the soft black silk quite deliberately—there was nothing provocative in the design and it provided ample coverage of her bandaged shoulder.

She heard the bell and Noemi's voice as she permitted the guest entry into the foyer. She ran a brush through her hair one last time and tried to ignore the butterflies that she felt on the inside. This wasn't a 'date'---they had a more important topic to discuss.

"Jethro" She descended the stairs slowly, smiling softly at the way his eyes swept with open appreciation over her curves.

_Damn! The woman could wear a cardboard box and she still would have the ability to make his head spin. _He pulled a small bouquet of fresh spring flowers from behind his back, smirking at the shocked look in her eyes.

"Flowers for me?"

"Well, a bottle of bourbon seemed too predictable"

She took the proffered flowers and inhaled their scent. "Thank you" she said before passing them off to Noemi.

He opened the door and ushered her out into the night.

{ { { { { { {

Flowers and candlelight. He'd almost forgotten how beautiful she looked in low flickering light. He could be impulsive if the mood suited him. He was hoping a change in venue would be just enough to get her to let down those impenetrable defenses she liked to retreat behind whenever she felt threatened. By tacit agreement, they kept the conversation light. It wasn't until he had walked her to her front door that he felt the mood shift.

"Drink?"

"Sure"

He glanced around the study, oddly thankful when she grabbed the decanter of bourbon and headed back out directing him into the comfort of the smaller informal sitting room. Amused, he watched as she muttered something under her breath about _'boys'_ and tossed two baseball gloves into a low wicker basket that already held a couple of balls and a frayed Yankees cap.

"Henry said that he really enjoyed the game the other night"

"Uh-huh"

"You'd make this a lot easier if you'd contribute to a conversation, Jethro"

He gave her an insolent smile, taking the glass of bourbon she offered. "Never was very good with words, Jen"

"You know we need to talk"

"About?" He knew exactly where this was going, but felt it only fair to give her a head start.

Her green eyes flashed momentarily, "Don't play games with me, Jethro. More importantly, don't play with him. He doesn't really understand how complicated this whole thing is"

"Doesn't have to be"

"What?"

"Complicated. Seems pretty simple: you go or you stay"

_No, it wasn't __**that**__ simple. No matter how much she wished it to be. She had fought long and hard to be where she was and she'd be damned if she would be ashamed of what she was. The sacrifices along the way had been necessary—not easy. The thought of leaving him before he knew about Henry had tied her stomach in knots; the idea of leaving now both were aware of the existence of the other was downright painful._

"And if we go?"

His voice betrayed none of the raw nerves that he felt inside the minute the question registered. He didn't want to think about what his life would be like if they left. " I'll figure something out" He chased the statement with a mouthful of bourbon.

"Choices are harder when there is a child involved"

He came and stood behind her, his mouth bending up in a small curve when he noticed her fingers tighten on her glass. A nervous and unsettled Jenny was one he could work with.

"You've made a lot of choices, Jen. Not all of them easy"

She felt his breath on the back of her neck and willed herself to stay still. "I didn't want easy "

"What _**do**_ you want?"

She turned. " I want to be home, Jethro. To have a place Henry and I can call home--together."

He tugged her gently towards him and breathed a single request, "Stay".

There were questions to be asked: jobs, houses, schools, plans. But the longer she stared into the smoldering blue of his eyes, the less she cared about having those answers worked out ahead of time. She bit her lower lip and then—noticing his fascination with her mouth—licked her lips in anticipation of the tempest that was building between them. She raised a hand and touched his face gently before giving her answer and pulling his head to hers.

"Yes"

Her head finally agreed with what her heart had known all along: she was home.

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The End


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